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PROBLEMS IN 
DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

A CRITIQUE OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 
AND SUGGESTED FORMULATIONS 



BY 
JOHN T. MacCURDY, M.D. 

Assistant, The Psychiatric Institute of the New York State Hospitals; 

Lecturer on Medical Psychology, Cornell University 

Medical College, New York 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1922 

All rights reserved 



PKINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 






Copyright, 1922, 
By THE MAOMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and printed. Published December, 1922. 



Press of 

J. J. Little & Ives Company 

New York, U. S. A. 

©CU692366 

DEC 13 '22 



To 

W. M. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface ix 

PART I. FREUDIAN FORMULATIONS 

I. Introduction 3 

II. The Unconscious and the "Wish" .... 8 

III. Instincts 15 

IV. Sex 21 

V. Repression and Ego-Libido ....... 27 

VI. Dementia Precox and Paranoia 50 

VII. Depression 58 

VIII. The Actual Neuroses 65 

IX. Emotions 71 

X. Dreams 90 

PART II. THE RELATIONSHIP OF PSYCHOANALY- 
SIS AND SUGGESTION 

XL Differences of Technic 119 

XII. Comparison of Material Gathered by Hyp- 
nosis, Psychoanalysis and Observation of 
the Psychoses 134 

PART III. THE PRECONSCIOUS PHASE 

XIII. Development op the Sense of Reality Accord- 

ing to Ferenczi 153 

XIV. The Origin of Symbols 161 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XV. The Meaning of Auto-erotism 169 

XVI. The Pbmiary Subjective Phase of Burrow . . 188 

PART IV. INSTINCTS AND THEIR MANIFESTA- 
TIONS 

XVII. The Theories of Rivers 209 

XVIII. Pragmatic Conceptions of Instincts and their 

Classification 253 

XIX. The Ego Instincts 271 

XX. The Sex Instincts and their Motivations . . 288 

XXI. The Herd Instincts 322 

XXII. The Co-operations and Conflicts of Instincts 346 

Index 379 



PREFACE 

It is only fair to warn the prospective reader of 
what is before him. This book is not a systematic 
treatise on psychopathology or psychoanalysis but, 
rather, a discussion of some of the fundamental 
problems which must be solved before our knowledge 
in this field may be accurately systematized. Lim- 
itations of space have forced me to omit description 
of phenomena and to confine myself to exposition of 
the hypotheses put forward to correlate these phe- 
nomena. Some knowledge of psychopathology is 
therefore necessary for proper understanding of the 
text, particularly of Part I, which (with the excep- 
tion of some pages in the chapter on dreams) is 
purely critical. This knowledge, however, is already 
possessed by many laymen who have read the cur- 
rent popular literature in this field. 

Dynamic psychology is a useful term which covers 
the study of instincts, motives, emotions and imag- 
inative (or " autistic") thinking as opposed to the 
more static functions of attention, perception, 
memory and similar conscious, logical processes. A 
rough analogy may make this discrimination clearer. 
One could observe the various mechanisms in an 
automobile, see how the pistons turn the crank 
shaft, how the transmission acts, what the differen- 
tial does and so on. But all this would throw no 
light on what makes the engine go. This is a prob- 



x PREFACE 

lem in thermodynamics. The static, intellectual 
functions of the mind are like the mechanisms of the 
automobile; the emotional or instinctive functions 
are like its thermodynamics. 

Dynamic psychology is a relatively new science 
which has grown up from the observations and spec- 
ulations of sociologists, anthropologists, criminol- 
ogists, neurologists and psychiatrists (to a less 
extent from the work of the psychologist with nor- 
mal man). Naturally each of them is apt to see the 
problems from an angle where only some aspects of 
human behavior are strongly illuminated. Not until 
work is complete in all these fields and the results 
collated, can anything like finality be reached in 
formulation. In the meantime in order to criticize 
such tentative hypotheses as may be put forward it 
is well for a reader to know what the professional 
standpoint of a writer is. A word as to the history 
of this book is therefore in order. 

For ten years I have been interested in the study 
of those graver mental aberrations which we call 
psychoses in contradistinction to the milder dis- 
turbances known as psychoneuroses. For eight 
years I have been treating the latter conditions in 
private practice, largely by psychoanalytic pro- 
cedures. "With the late Dr. August Hoch I began in 
1913 a systematic study of the psychology of manic- 
depressive insanity — those conditions where patho- 
logical emotional reactions are the most prominent 
symptoms. Years before it had been demonstrated 
by Jung and many other psychiatrists in both 
Europe and America that the false ideas present in 



PREFACE xi 

the functional psychoses, particularly dementia 
praecox, were not haphazard and lawless products 
of a diseased brain but that they were closely anal- 
ogous to the unconscious ideas discovered by Freud 
in the dreams of his psychoneurotic patients and 
available for systematic study. The task in investi- 
gation of manic-depressive insanity was to examine 
the form which delusions took and see if they could 
be correlated with the other symptoms. The results 
of this work are not yet published except for one 
clinical group. 1 The present book represents a by- 
product of these researches. 

The study had not proceeded far before rather 
definite laws began to appear. Naturally curiosity 
was aroused as to how close these laws were to those 
which Freud had expounded, so a careful examina- 
tion of his theoretic writings was made. In 1913 
and 1914 Dr. Hoch and I spent some hundreds of 
hours together in reading critically what Freud had 
written. To our surprise it was found that his 
fundamental principles were not internally consist- 
ent. It seemed possible that this was due to the 
haphazard appearance of his articles, which 
extended over a period of years, and that he would 
sometime put all his discoveries together and for- 
mulate his views in a systematic way. No published 
criticism of his theories was therefore undertaken 
at that time. During these years I was also becom- 
ing interested in the psychology of epilepsy and, 
later, of the war neuroses. These conditions would 
have been totally incomprehensible had it not been 

1 Hoch, ' • Benign Stupors, ' ' Macmillan Co., New York, 1921. 



xii PEEFACE 

for the light which psychoanalysis had thrown on 
morbid mental processes, yet these studies seemed 
to demonstrate that instincts other than the sexual 
could be responsible not merely for isolated symp- 
toms but for the very core of the abnormal reaction. 
This naturally excited an interest in the interplay 
of different instinct groups — a broader field than 
that of psychoanalysis as it is exposed by Freud 
and his immediate followers. 

The purpose of this book is, therefore, twofold. 
On the one hand it is an attempt to show from dem- 
onstration of the limitations and inconsistencies of 
Freudian formulations that a broader system is 
needed, while, on the other, an attempt is made to 
outline some tentative hypotheses to make good this 
need. Apology for both parts of the work is in 
order. The critical portion of the book (mainly 
in Part I) is unquestionably hard reading. The 
only excuse I can plead is that I labored long in the 
attempt to find what Freud really means and dis- 
covered such complicated formulations that I could 
not express nor discuss them more simply than I 
have done. As for the more constructive portion, 
it would be folly to claim for this anything more 
than a temporary and suggestive value. Our science 
is new and its "laws" must be only working hypoth- 
eses. New observations — most likely to come from 
anthropologists — may upset any theory overnight. 
The only defence for publication is that the general- 
izations now appearing are not, in the main, new, 
but have been tested by applicability to clinical prob- 
lems for a number of years. 



PREFACE xiii 

No attempt has been made to consider the theories 
of Jung because, quite frankly, I cannot understand 
them. In so far as I have caught any glimmering 
of Jung's meaning it has seemed as if his 
"psychoanalysis" is mystical rather than scientific 
in its tendency. Science begins with objectively 
observable phenomena; its theories have to do with 
the correlation of these phenomena and must be 
altered whenever observations are made that con- 
flict with the existing formulations. Mysticism, on 
the other hand, begins in subjective feelings or con- 
victions which are elaborated into theory with the 
same type of logic as is used in science. But the 
primary observation always carries with it a feeling 
of reality superior to that engendered by objective 
phenomena. Consequently new observations are 
invariably interpreted in the light proceeding from 
the original subjective experience. It may well be 
that there are, and always will be, truths capable of 
none but mystical treatment but this method should 
not masquerade as science. 

The situation with Freud is quite different. His 
original discoveries are truly objective phenomena; 
his observations can, in the main, be confirmed by 
any one who takes the necessary pains. It is his 
reasoning about these phenomena which is at times 
faulty. The author greatly regrets that it has been 
impossible within the narrow limits of a small book 
to expose that which Freud has contributed to dy- 
namic psychology ; the iteration of adverse criticism 
must inevitably give the impression of hostility. As 
a matter of fact the criticisms would never have been 



xiv PREFACE 

attempted except as an effort to modify the hypothe- 
ses deduced from his observations into a form com- 
patible with general biological theory. It is better 
for his admirers to put the psychoanalytic house in 
order spontaneously than for Freud's enemies to 
force revision. So far, the hostile critics have been 
too ignorant and too blinded by prejudice to deal 
with the problem intelligently. It is my belief that 
the greatest service which can be done to psycho- 
analysis to-day and the most practical form for 
tribute of gratitude to Freud to take is the dispas- 
sionate criticism of his work. His theories cannot 
endure as they stand and the sooner they assume 
scientific and logical form the more certain is their 
immortality. 

If the objections taken to Freud's formulations 
be sound, the deduction is inevitable that his capac- 
ity as a logician is relatively weak as compared with 
his scientific imagination — that necessary precursor 
to original observation. But only a handful of su- 
preme geniuses have ever combined the two. Many 
savants have critical ability to the full but imagina- 
tion — and the courage to see it through — is a gift 
of the gods. Columbus had it, yet he died in the 
belief that he had only landed on the outskirts of 
Asia. The very names of those who showed his 
error and demonstrated the separate existence of the 
continent of America, are forgotten to most educated 
people. And so they should be. We honor Colum- 
bus for his imagination and courage, not for any 
mean skill as a critical geographer. One ventures 
to predict that the generations to come will forget 



PREFACE xv 

Freud's errors and immortalize him as the founder 
of true dynamic psychology. 

In conclusion reference should be made to another 
scientist, a little less original but more learned, 
whose essay into the field of psychopathology is 
treated with more sympathy than agreement by the 
author. I was privileged to know the friendship of 
W. H. R. Rivers, whose sudden death cut short a 
career of unique achievement. Had his strength 
continued he would probably have lived to see him- 
self recognized as the first man to utilize some of 
the discoveries of Freud in the solution of funda- 
mental anthropological problems. It is unfortunate 
that his most popular book, "Instinct and the Un- 
conscious," should bring his name to the attention 
of many psychopathologists as an amateur in this 
field. If one would know his real capacity and the 
potentiality of his method, let him read "Conserva- 
tion and Plasticity" (Folk-Lore, Vol. XXXII, 
No. 1). 

Of his relative unfamiliarity with clinical phe- 
nomena he was well aware; he welcomed criticisms 
from this standpoint and had promised me to read 
over prior to publication the chapter on his work, 
which was finished only the day before his death. 

I wish to record my thanks to Dr. Morton Prince, 
the editor, for his courtesy in allowing reproduction 
in the last chapter of large portions of an article 
published in the Journal of Abnormal Psychology. 

J. T. M. 



PAET I 
FREUDIAN FORMULATIONS 



CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

Modern psychopathology may be said to have 
originated with the appearance of the hypothesis of 
unconscious mentation. This hypothesis was nec- 
essary to account for the phenomena observed by 
workers in two schools, the hypnotic and psycho- 
analytic. The work of the former group has never 
received the attention it deserved either from scien- 
tific speculators or intelligent laymen. This is 
possibly to be accounted for by the limited thera- 
peutic results of such hypnotic measures as demon- 
strated unconscious phenomena. Psychoanalysis, 
however, has become highly popular as a result of 
its therapeutic achievements on the one hand and 
also, probably, because its insistence on one dom- 
inating and specific unconscious tendency, namely 
the sexual, has made a wide and often morbid appeal. 
It is a peculiarity of psychoanalytic technique that 
it cannot be used for therapeutic ends without a 
constant demonstration of the ''unconscious." The 
popularity of psychoanalysis, therefore, has led 
inevitably to a wide consideration or acceptance of 
the doctrine of an unconscious mind. During the 
war the experience was repeated in different 

countries of finding that those trained in psycho- 

3 



4 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

analytic method were highly competent to deal with 
war neuroses, while the repeated demonstration of 
" psychoanalytic" mechanisms in these conditions 
independent of sex factors led many, previously 
skeptical and indifferent, to examine Freud 's system 
of psychology with interest. 

The question as to what this system really is has 
become each year more pressing, while a number of 
factors have contributed to obscure the problem. 
Four of them are important. The first is that psy- 
choanalysis has never been formally taught but has 
been learned in the main by independent observa- 
tions of men originally inspired by the scattered and 
unconnected writings of Freud and his immediate 
followers. Each of these workers has tended to give 
his own meaning to the terms in common use and 
often to invent new ones. The second factor is of 
still greater importance from a scientific standpoint. 
In any single analysis observation is not made of 
mental reactions occurring with complete spontane- 
ity in the patient examined but is most often of 
reactions definitely stimulated by the observer him- 
self. The subjective factor — the personal equation 
— has, therefore, to be considered as an element in 
the results obtained to a degree that is not met in 
other kinds of scientific enquiry. The third 
difficulty belongs more properly to the material than 
to the method. Theoretically, psychoanalysis aims 
at an investigation of the patient's entire life, a task 
which is practically impossible of completion. Con- 
sequently the analyst must make a selection, and 
this is apt to be made on a basis of personal bias, 



INTRODUCTION 5 

the analyst selecting those mental trends for special 
investigation which are likely to strengthen his par- 
ticular hypothesis. Finally, there is no ready method 
of controlling his results. An analysis terminates 
so soon as the patient feels he can travel alone. 
According to psychoanalytic theory cure comes 
about by freeing inhibition and thereby liberating 
unconscious energy, previously bound up in symp- 
toms, so that it can attain normal expression. When 
sufficient energy is thus loosened the patient's sat- 
isfaction with life is complete enough to make 
further repression unnecessary and he is perma- 
nently well. It is clear that, in consequence of this, 
mental health may be attained by any type of analy- 
sis provided only that a sufficient number of 
complexes are ventilated. Therapeutic results, 
therefore, simply demonstrate that this has been 
achieved, not that complexes broken up were nec- 
essarily the most important ones. 

With so many factors militating against uniform- 
ity in the views of individual psychoanalysts it is 
truly surprising that there is, so far as fundamentals 
are concerned, essential agreement among them, a 
phenomenon which speaks strongly in favor of the 
validity of their hypotheses. Since these are novel 
and deal with allegedly basic principles of psychol- 
ogy it is important that they should be incorporated 
with scientific thought in general. In order that this 
may be done two tasks must be accomplished. The 
hypotheses themselves must be formulated logically 
and with internal consistency and, on the other 
hand, they must be correlated with general biolog- 



6 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ical theory. Two books x appeared recently in which 
solution of these problems is attempted and since 
their purpose is to illuminate the same fundamental 
question from these two angles, it may be well to 
use them as starting points for discussion. 

The followers of Freud who are interested in 
psychoanalysis have been eagerly waiting for a sum- 
mary from him of his views. His previous publica- 
tions have been mainly topical and, as time went on 
and his theories broadened and were modified, 
earlier generalizations were contradicted in later 
writings. His readers felt curious as to how much 
these alterations modified his general theory and, 
being unable themselves to synthesize his scattered 
formulations into one unified structure, have looked 
to him for a statement of this new system of psy- 
chology. During the winters of 1915-16 and 1916-17 
he delivered 28 lectures to lay audiences in Vienna, 
which were designed to cover, superficially, the field 
of psychoanalysis. Owing to war conditions these 
lectures have only recently become available in 
translation to English readers. Unfortunately the 
translation (anonymous) seems to have been made 
by some one ignorant of psychiatry and more famil- 
iar with German than English. In places the text 
is completely incomprehensible and necessitates ref- 
erence to the original. Typographical errors are 
frequent and gross. 

To add to these difficulties of the English reader 

1 ' ' A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis, ' ' by Sigmund Freud, 
New York, Boni & Liveright, 1920. 

"Instinct and the Unconscious," by W. H. R. Rivers, The Cam- 
bridge Press, 1920. 



INTRODUCTION 7 

the arrangement of the lectures seems unfortunate. 
They begin with a discussion of errors (The Psy- 
chopathology of Everyday Life), proceed with 
dream analysis, while it is only in the last half of 
the book that Freud's theories of the neuroses 
appear. It would seem that either from the stand- 
point of logical development or from the standpoint 
of tact it would have been wiser to reverse the order 
of presentation. Moreover no topic seems to be 
exhaustively discussed in any one place, important 
additions to the exposition appearing in later chap- 
ters. Considerable labor is therefore necessary if 
one is to discover just what his views are. In the 
following pages an attempt will be made to digest 
and criticize the material thus gathered. During 
the years when Freud was delivering these lectures 
he published five papers x which also contain impor- 
tant generalizations. When these amplify or amend 
the formulations arrived at in his book, special 
reference will be made to them. 

1 These papers with the titles ' ' Triebe und Triebschicksale, " ' ' Die 
Verdrangung, " "Das Unbewusste, " " Metapsychologische Er- 
ganzung zur Traumlehre" and "Trauer und Melancholie" have all 
been reprinted in Sammlung Kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, 
Vierte Folge, 1918. Hugo Heller, Leipzig and Vienna. 



\ 



CHAPTER II 

THE UNCONSCIOUS AND THE U WISH" 

The basis of psychoanalysis is the doctrine of the 
unconscious, so it may be best to begin with exam- 
ination of Freud's present opinions about it. On 
pages 255 and 256 he gives his general formulations 
to the effect that practically all mental processes 
originate beyond the range of awareness. Some 
have not the force ever to intrude into consciousness, 
others tend to do so. The latter are met at the 
threshold by a l ' censorship " J which repels them, 
thus keeping them unconscious. To clarify this con- 
ception Freud uses an analogy, which he insists is 
only an analogy, although submitting that it gives 
an accurate representation of his views. The un- 
conscious is like a large anteroom crowded with 
people. Off it leads a smaller reception room. At 
the threshold of the door between stands a watchman 
who prevents the passage of undesirables. When a 
visitor is allowed past the host may recognize him 
or not as he chooses. The optional character of this 
awareness is emphasized by the term " fore- 
conscious" (or "preconscious") to describe this 
reception-room or that collection of mental processes 
which are available for inspection if attention is 

1 Usually, as in this book, mistranslated as "censor." 

8 



THE UNCONSCIOUS AND THE ''WISH" 9 

directed to them. The unconscious, however (the 
anteroom), contains mental processes toward which 
no mere effort of will can force the individual 
attention. 

If Freud used the term " unconscious' • in this 
broad sense consistently many critics would have 
more intellectual sympathy with his formulations 
than they are capable of achieving. Practically he 
confines the term to those mental processes which 
struggle for admission to consciousness and are 
thrown back. In fact he goes even further and, in 
effect, limits the " unconscious" to those mental 
processes which are sexual. An example of this is 
shown on page 377 where he is speaking of the 
conflict between unconscious sex impulses and 
''resistance." "... resistance is not part of the 
unconscious but of the ego which is our fellow- 
worker [in psychoanalytic treatment]. This holds 
true even if resistance is not conscious. . . . We 
expect resistance to be relinquished . . . when 
our interpretation has enabled the ego to recognize 
it." A component of the ego, therefore, of which 
consciousness is not aware, which operates uncon- 
sciously and can only be recognized by the 
technic of psychoanalysis — this is not part of the 
"unconscious." Unfortunately this example is not 
isolated. 

In his essay on "Das TJnbewusste," Freud de- 
scribes the characteristics of unconscious mental 
processes as opposed to those of the fore-conscious- 
ness. The former are out of touch with reality and 
logic, directly antagonistic ideas can coexist (their 



10 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

conscious, or fore-conscious, products being com- 
promises) and they are regulated by the pleasure- 
pain principle. Fore-conscious thoughts, however, 
may be fully logical and influenced by a recognition 
of reality. As a corollary (although derived from 
his speculations about schizophrenia) , he thinks that 
unconscious thoughts are concerned with the idea 
of an object or process alone, while in the fore-con- 
scious the thoughts are composed not merely of the 
objects as such but also of the words denoting them. 
Anyone with even a superficial experience in psy- 
chopathology knows that there are many thoughts 
which meet too strong resistance to enter conscious- 
ness and which yet are closely connected with reality 
and are formulated (or capable of being formu- 
lated) in words. Freud recognizes this and to meet 
the difficulty changes his definitions of the fore-con- 
scious, or, rather, says that it has two subdivisions. 
One of them is the fore-conscious as earlier defined, 
the realm of mental processes that pass censorship 
and are out of awareness simply owing to inatten- 
tion. The other and new fore-consciousness is com- 
posed of fantasies of unconscious origin, that 
have the characteristics of fore-conscious ideas 
(contact with reality, verbalization, etc.), but still 
suffer some repression. This second type of fore- 
consciousness is analogous to the "co-conscious- 
ness" of Morton Prince, if not essentially identical 
with it. Freud, however, does not seem to recognize 
this. By defining fore-consciousness first in terms 
of repression and later characterizing it descrip- 
tively he has arrived at a category which is 



THE UNCONSCIOUS AND THE "WISH" 11 

unconscious by one system of classification and fore- 
conscious by another. 

It seems to the writer that it would be safer to 
abolish the ''fore-conscious" as a strictly delimited 
neutral zone of mental process and say simply that 
as unconscious processes (with the characteristics 
Freud gives them) approach nearer the threshold of 
consciousness they take on more and more the qual- 
ities and attributes of conscious processes. This 
development would be accompanied by a progressive 
weakening of repression. Such complexes of ideas 
as had gained definite formulation and some stabil- 
ity could then be termed fore-conscious or co-con- 
scious as one preferred. Personally I prefer to 
retain both these terms. The fore-conscious would 
then include ideas on the fringe of awarenessj a 
category of no great importance in psychopathology. 
Co-consciousness on the other hand would be a 
special subdivision of the unconscious containing 
impulses not latent but formulated in definite con- 
cepts. These would be derived from the vaguer 
tendencies of the general unconscious which may not 
be active at all. The co-conscious thoughts would 
be the actively functioning ones, the ones deter- 
mining conduct and symptoms, but never in aware- 
ness. The moment they become even potentially 
capable of coming with awareness they would be 
fore-conscious. Naturally the boundary lines 
between these subdivisions must constantly be shift- 
ing within a relatively narrow range — that is in 
normal mental health. A characteristic of disease 



12 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

is a wide excursion and irregularity of these 
boundary lines. 

We see, then, that although Freud admits a wider 
content to the unconscious on purely theoretic 
grounds, practically the unconscious he works with 
represents repressed mental processes usually 
sexual. These mental processes he further char- 
acterizes as wishes or connected with wishes. As 
Holt has pointed out, this is one of the most origi- 
nal of Freud's contributions since it introduces a 
new dynamic unit or element into psychology. It 
is, therefore, important to know what he has to say 
about the wish. It may be something either con- 
scious or unconscious for he speaks (p. 107) of 
hunger, thirst and sex desires appearing directly 
in dreams. These are cravings of which the dreamer 
becomes conscious if he wakes and which would 
waken him if they did not receive a hallucinatory 
fulfillment in the dream. They belong, therefore, 
to a conscious rather than an unconscious order. 
Similarly symptoms — and elaborate symptoms — 
may be motivated by efforts to prevent the expres- 
sion of criminal unconscious wishes or to nullify 
their effects as in the elaborate rituals of .compul- 
sive neurotics (p. 261). He speaks of them as 
positive and negative objects of sex wishes. If 
negative, so far as the antisocial impulse is con- 
cerned, the same impulse is a positive expression 
of the ego, or, in other words, of something quite 
capable of becoming conscious. So Freud does not 
insist on all dynamic wishes being unconscious. 
However, dreams in which marked distortion occurs 



THE UNCONSCIOUS AND THE "WISH" 13 

he holds to be invariably stimulated by unconscious, 
licentious, sex wishes (p. 169). But he goes on to 
say, "It can be shown that at one time they were 
known and conscious." Although this time is often 
fairly recent, these wishes were preponderantly 
conscious in infancy and the factor which he finds 
to be invariably most important in any neurosis is 
the unconscious infantile sex wish. From this one 
might deduce that Freud considers all wishes to be 
either now or at some time conscious affairs. Un- 
fortunately, as we shall soon see, he admits that 
the CEdipus complex is developed largely in the 
unconscious. But since Freud does not try to draw 
this line it must be admitted that he uses the term 
consistently. The question remains, however, is 
"wish" the right word for his concept? 

The question of the present or historic conscious- 
ness of a wish is of importance since so many critics 
have inveighed against the introduction of a voli- 
tional coloring to impulses of which the subject is 
unaware. Volition, they say, must be the expression 
of a personality, conscious or submerged, before it 
can be volition. Freud is apparently aware of this 
implication of the term "wish" for he explains the 
presence of painful wishes (pp. 185, 186) by the 
operation of conflicting elements in the personality, 
analogous to the conflict of two persons. Thus is 
introduced an anthropomorphic tendency which 
detracts from the scientific value of his formula- 
tions. This anthropomorphism will be found to be 
constantly cropping up. It is unfortunate that 
Freud picked on the word "wish" as a label for 



14 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

something which he uses consistently in the sense 
of psychic craving, innate tendency, dynamic mental 
processes, or some such concept. A totally new 
term would have been more useful but it is unlikely 
that any substitute will ever be generally employed 
in psychoanalytic literature. Nevertheless, accu- 
racy in terminology is such an aid to clarity of 
thought that I shall (in Chapter 18) suggest a term 
which might be applicable as a substitute for 
"wish." 



CHAPTER III 

INSTINCTS 

Instincts stand in close dynamic relationship to 
" wishes" although Freud unfortunately does not 
state the nature of the connection. In his essay on 
"Triebe und Triebschicksale, " however, he presents 
some novel ideas about instincts. Ernest Jones x 
has summarized these formulations so well as to 
justify quotations from his paper. 

"He begins with an attempt to clarify our psychological con- 
ceptions of instinct, and, starting with the physiological concept 
of the nervous system as a reflex apparatus the function of which 
is to avoid stimuli or abolish their effects, he points out the differ- 
ences between stimuli of instinctive origin and those emanating 
from without. Because the former cannot be dealt with by any 
form of motor flight, as the latter can, but only by complicated 
ways of altering the outer world so as to bring about suitable 
changes in the internal source of stimulation known as satisfac- 
tion, he considers that it is instincts, and not external stimulation, 
which are the true cause of progress and have led to the present 
complexity of the nervous system. As the mind seems to be 
regulated throughout by the pleasure-pain principle, he thinks 
that this must mirror the way in which stimuli are dealt with in 
general, and he correlates pleasure with a relief of excitation and 
pain with an increase of it." 

1 Ernest Jones, "Eecent Advances in Psychoanalysis," Interna- 
tional Journal of Psychoanalysis, Vol. I, Part 2. 

15 



16 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

These extraordinary conclusions are based on 
reasoning so glaringly false that the errors need 
only be indicated. His fundamental postulate is that 
"the mind seems to be regulated throughout by the 
pleasure-pain principle." This is expressed as an 
observation, yet only Freud and his immediate fol- 
lowers have been able to find such a wholesale appli- 
cation of the principle of hedonism, which they have 
accomplished, as we have seen above, by distorting 
the meaning of the term "wish." This postulate in 
mind, Freud has fabricated a physiology of reflexes 
on which he may base his instinct theory. No 
physiologist has been so bold as to state that the 
function of a reflex apparatus is to avoid stimuli or 
abolish their effects. This is anthropomorphism 
again. When the gall-bladder contracts during the 
process of digestion — a typical reflex — it is difficult 
to imagine that organ (or all the organs involved) 
shunning a stimulus. Another error shows an 
equally gross fault in logic. All instincts are sup- 
posed fundamentally to be set off by external stim- 
uli. When Freud speaks of stimuli of instinctive, 
inner origin, he means stimuli which release the 
conative expressions of the instinct, not the stimuli 
responsible for the initiation of the instinctive re- 
action as a whole. This mistake is the result of his 
terminology. He uses throughout the word 
' ' Trieb, ' ' a lay term, which means in German either 
"impulse" or "instinct." An impulse may be im- 
mediately actuated by an inner stimulus, although 
the instinctive reaction of which it is a component 
is a response to something in the environment. As 



INSTINCTS 17 

to the growth of the nervous system being a product 
of instinct, he again argues falsely. He presents 
external stimulus and internal instinctive stimulus 
as the only possible factors in evolution. Most 
biologists would like to consider at least one other 
possibility, namely intelligence, that which controls 
and modifies instinct, as an important function de- 
veloping with human specialization. If Freud were 
right, there would be many insects with a larger 
nervous system than man. 

Jones proceeds with his digest: 

"After a number of considerations on the nature and character- 
istics of instincts in general, and the fate they undergo in develop- 
ment, he illustrates his views by taking the example of the sexual 
instinct, the one which the nature of their material has compelled 
psychoanalysts to study most fully. The destiny of such an 
instinct would seem to lie in one of four possible directions: 
reversal into its opposite; turning against the subject; repression; 
and sublimation. It essentially depends on the instincts being 
subjected to the influence of the three great polarities that govern 
mental life, namely, the biological one of activity-passivity, the 
real one of self-outer world, and the economical one of pleasure- 
pain. The interrelationships of these three great polarities, which 
sometimes coincide and sometimes cross one another, are dis- 
tinctly complex, and are discussed by Freud at some length. For 
instance, the contrast of active and passive cannot be identified 
with subject and object (self and outer world) ; the subject is 
passive towards the object in so far as it receives stimuli from it, 
active when it reacts to these, and especially active towards the 
outer world when stimulated by an instinct. Again subject and 
object can only be identified with pleasure and pain (or indiffer- 
ence) respectively in the beginning of life; soon the subject is 
separated into a pleasurable part and a painful part which is 
projected into the outer world, while at the same time the outer 
world is divided into a pleasure-giving part which is incorporated 



18 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

(introjected) into the self and the opposite of this which remains 
distasteful or indifferent, the stage heing thus attained which 
Freud refers to as that of the 'purified pleasure-self.' " 

Is Freud really talking about instincts here? Let 
us consider his items one by one. An instinct can- 
not be reversed into its opposite although it may be 
replaced by it. For instance, flight may be 
abandoned and attack take its place ; but flight can- 
not be turned into attack. His examples, however 
(e.g. sadism-masochism) are taken from the sex 
instincts — not from the sex instinct in the proper 
sense of the term, for if there were only one it would 
be for copulation pure and simple, a reaction which 
would or would not take place and could have only 
one form. Sexual activities may vary in their na- 
ture, may in fact be mutually opposed in tendency, 
and still serve as releases for the energy of sexual 
instincts. These, then, are either impulses belonging 
to as many different sex instincts or else they may be 
looked on as alternative conative reactions for one 
vast, vague and undifferentiated sex instinct. In the 
former case these differing instincts would replace 
one another as with flight and attack. In the latter 
the impulses would alternate while the instinct 
would remain fundamentally unaltered. In short, 
it is inconceivable that any pure instinct can be 
changed into another, unless one first establishes 
some totally new definition for an instinct. 

As to the "turning against the subject," a man 
may first desire to injure somebody else and then 
substitute for that action self-injury. This change 
must either be a replacement of one instinct by an- 



INSTINCTS 19 

other or else, if only one instinct be involved, we 
must have an expression of the same fundamental 
drive in different ideas. This introduces a new 
factor — the intellectual — which may serve as a 
directing influence for the conative aspect of the 
instinct. Intelligence, of course, is capable of great 
variation, but, if it be the idea which is changed the 
underlying instinct has remained unaltered. 

There need be no discussion of repression. A pure 
instinct or, rather, a pure instinctive reaction can 
certainly be repressed. It is a question, however, 
whether an instinct can be sublimated. According 
to the Freudian definition, sublimation is a process 
whereby energy derived from sex is utilized in a 
non-sexual outlet. Here again we deal, probably, 
with an ideational modification. But the process is 
still more complicated, for it seems likely that in 
sublimation another instinctive factor enters in and 
combines with the sexual in supplying the energy 
for the activity in question. This new instinct would 
be one connected, biologically, with social specializa- 
tion. (See Chapter 22.) 

It is striking that the most natural fate of sex 
instinct, free expression in copulation, is omitted 
entirely from Freud's list. The omission is sig- 
nificant. His viewpoint is not biological but psycho- 
pathological. He is dealing so constantly with the 
perverse and aberrant in sex that its ultimate, nor- 
mal goal is lost sight of in his generalizations. 

Doubt may be cast on the value of Freud's three 
"polarities that govern mental life." Examination 
of them seems to show that they are new terms 



20 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

rather than new ideas. The "biological one of 
activity-passivity" looks like stimulation or non- 
stimulation, which is certainly not novel. When 
Freud speaks of passivity in reception of stimuli 
and activity in reaction to the stimuli, he seems to 
forget the time-honored division of instincts into 
cognitive, emotional and conative parts, which imply 
of necessity passive and active phases. The "real 
one of self-outer world" is the intellectual factor 
mentioned above and so confused does he become 
in mixing ideas with instincts that when he discusses 
his third polarity, the "economical one of pleasure- 
pain," he represents as instinctive most refined 
metaphysical concepts of self and environment, both 
being divided into pleasurable and painful aspects, 
reacting mutually. 



CHAPTER IV 

SEX 

The most dynamic element in Freud 's psychology 
is the sexual or libido. The latter he defines as 
". . . the force through which the . . . sex instinct 
expresses itself." It is analogous to hunger 
which is the force through which the instinct of nu- 
trition is expressed. It is presumed that the reader 
is familiar with the outline of sexual development 
which Freud gave in his "Drei Abhandlungen zur 
Sexualtheorie" and, therefore, comment will only 
be made on the elaborations or emendations to that 
theory, which appear in these lectures. 

He gives the conventional, psychoanalytic picture 
of ' 'infantile sexuality" and in this connection there 
is a discussion as to terminology which has broader 
significance than that of mere pedantic accuracy. 
The meaning which Freud has always given to the 
term "sex" is wider than that accorded to it by most 
psychologists. His defense of this is typified in 
his argument in favor of calling the various infantile 
practices such as finger sucking, and the child's in- 
terest in excretory sensations, sexual. He admits 
that this behavior has not all the qualities nor the 
intensity of adult manifestations of the sex instinct 
but insists that what everybody calls "sex" grows 

21 



22 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

out of this undifferentiated matrix. He insists upon 
calling this sexual rather than " organic pleasure,' ' 
as some have proposed, because it is impossible to 
say when plainly sexual pleasure begins. In the lat- 
ter he is correct, and as a practical matter in the 
practice of psychoanalysis the use of the term is jus- 
tified because the sexual potentiality of " organic 
pleasure" is the important thing for the patient to 
realize. This, however, is a different problem from 
the academic one of correct formulation. As a mat- 
ter of fact, it seems to the writer that Freud 's use of 
the term sexual is exactly that of the man on the 
street with the proviso that he uses the word consist- 
ently while the average citizen calls a thing sexual 
when it is comfortable for him to do so but denies its 
sexuality when that would be embarrassing. But 
this loose usage is not scientific. Popular expres- 
sions and scientific terminology differ just in the 
point of the latter showing discrimination. The 
nemesis following such inexactness is that unsym- 
pathetic critics are furnished with good weapons for 
attack although the motive for attack may not itself 
be at all scientific. 

While clinging to the term "infantile sexuality," 
Freud has become more conservative and guarded 
in accounting for it. That doctrine of the Stone Age 
in psychoanalysis, the allocation of neuroses to defi- 
nite sex traumata, is abandoned. He now says that 
these experiences are often only imaginary, although 
of course they may have the importance of real 
events psychologically. (In this sense it might be 
fair to call them the initial neurotic symptoms.) 



SEX 23 

Actual experience, he notes, may have little impor- 
tance at the time but become pathogenic in virtue 
of repression and unconscious perpetuation with 
elaboration. In fact he says that observation of the 
child may fail to reveal the presence of many in- 
fantile sex fantasies and practices or their develop- 
ment may be rapid. It is by the analysis of 
neurotics that the material is gained from which 
these "constructions" are fabricated, constructions 
which he believes to be necessary and valuable. 
Many a friend to psychoanalysis who has felt that 
the riot of perverse fancies unearthed in an analysis 
was more of an unconscious product than an uncon- 
scious memory will be cheered by this assertion. If 
only he would leave it at that! Unfortunately he 
describes the child as it were a monster devoid of 
all interest save in the lewd and unclean. How the 
critic will gloat over such a statement as that chil- 
dren (not some children) value their feces highly 
and make of them the first presents to those they 
love! 

The CEdipus complex receives a less literal 
treatment. Apparently Freud's present view as to 
this matter is that the mother is an object of "love" 
to the boy and that the definite and literal incest 
ideas are of gradual, unconscious growth, receiving 
considerable impetus at puberty. Quotations may 
elucidate this. 

"We call the mother the first object of love. For we speak of 
love when we emphasize the psychic side of sex impulses, and 
disregard or for a moment wish to forget the fundamental physi- 
cal or "sensual" demands of the instincts. At the time when the 



24 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

mother becomes the object of love, the psychic work of suppres- 
sion which withdraws the knowledge of a part of his sexual goal 
from his consciousness has already begun in the child. The 
selection of the mother as the object of love involves everything 
we understand by the CEdipus complex. ... (P. 285.) 

"To be sure, the analytic representation of the CEdipus-complex 
enlarges upon and is a coarser edition of the infantile sketch. 
The hatred of the father, the death wish in regard to him, are no 
longer timidly suggested, the affection for the mother recognizes 
the goal of possessing her for a wife. Dare we really accredit 
these horrible and extreme feelings to those tender childhood 
years, or does analysis deceive us by bringing in some new ele- 
ment? It is not difficult to discover this. Whenever an account 
of past events is given, be it written even by a historian, we must 
take into account the fact that inadvertently something has been 
interpolated from the present and from intervening times into the 
past; so that the entire picture is falsified. In the case of the 
neurotic it is questionable whether this interpolation is entirely 
unintentional or not : we shall later come to learn its motives and 
must justify the fact of "imagining back" into the remote past. 
We also easily discover that hatred of the father is fortified by 
numerous motives which originate in later times and circum- 
stances, since the sexual wishes for the mother are cast in forms 
which are necessarily foreign to the child." (P. 291.) 

In the development of object libido, Freud now 
defines two types, the narcissistic and the dependent. 
In the former a personality, similar to that of the 
subject, is loved, while in the latter one who has 
become valuable in virtue of filling non-sexual needs 
becomes the object of the libido. In either of these 
cases the passion is held to be selfish, although 
Freud speaks only of the love capacity of the indi- 
vidual being initiated or directed unconsciously by 
egocentric ideals. In one place, however, he does 
introduce the term altruism in connection with love. 



SEX 25 

This (pp. 360, 361) is when he contrasts egoism and 
narcissism. In the completest love altruism enters, 
which united with sexual attachment makes the 
object so powerful that it "sucks up the ego as it 
were." A factor is thus admitted which may be 
more potent than egoism or narcissism. Yet this 
factor is mentioned only once and then rather inci- 
dentally. He has nothing to say about its origin, its 
development or its influence on other factors in dy- 
namic psychology. It is inconceivable that altruism 
springs suddenly into being in connection with one 
life situation alone. We therefore feel justified in 
concluding that Freud's admission of altruism in 
this instance is accidental so far as his general psy- 
chology is concerned. As a matter of fact, with this 
exception, Freud now describes love only in terms 
of narcissism of different types. 

A refreshing broadening of view about sadism and 
masochism appears in this book, for they are now 
regarded as active and passive forerunners of the 
later masculine and feminine traits. "Hate stands 
throughout in closest connection with the instinct 
of self-preservation." (Jones.) Sadism is an 
"instinct to mastery which may border on cruelty." 
A less critical statement is concerned with the 
physical expression of masochism: "Impulses with 
passive goals attach themselves to the erogenous 
zones of the rectal opening." It is difficult to see 
why anything but coincidence of development should 
ally this particular type of object libido with this 
specific goal. The experience of a critical analyst 
would probably be found to vary a good deal with 



26 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

different patients in this regard and the experience 
of different analysts would probably vary still more. 
In the subdivision of the prepuberty period, Freud 
now makes two stages. The first is one when oral 
erotism dominates while the second is this sadistico- 
anal phase. We shall return to the question of the 
relationship of libido and object to specific impulse 
and goal, when discussing Freud's theory of 
depression. 

Probably the most important point in his outline 
of sex development is the reason he assigns for the 
importance of sex. He says the libido escapes the 
education given other impulses very largely because 
it does not need outward expression and persists 
with auto-erotic outlet for quite a time. Sex im- 
pulses are governed by the pleasure principle and 
fall under the influence of fact later, with difficulty, 
or not at all. It is contact with reality, with fact, 
that gives education and control. 

After hearing a good deal about the individual 
origin of sex anomalies we read (p. 323) that primal 
sex fantasies are inherited! If psychoanalysis has 
any value, either as a method of treatment or a sys- 
tem of psychopathology, it derives that value from 
the emphasis it places on purely auto-genetic factors. 
If Freud regards this principle as too narrow, he 
should say so and place some limits to what he thinks 
are the boundaries of congenital and acquired 
influences. This baldly stated inconsistency simply 
throws matters into confusion. If it means anything 
it could be easily elaborated to undermine the most 
basic principle of psychoanalysis. 



CHAPTER V 

BEPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 

In regard to repression the writings now under 
consideration present a considerable advance and 
elaboration of Freud's earlier views. In his "Zwei 
Principien des psychischen Geschehens", 1 he spoke 
of it as a reaction of withdrawal or flight from 
something painful. The phenomena subsumed un- 
der the heading of repression are, however, so often 
expressive of active aggression that Freud has had 
to modify the first formulation with the introduction 
of this latter element of condemnation and expur- 
gation. Now it stands that repression partakes of 
the nature of both processes. Since they are an- 
titheses, it would have been more logical to confine 
the term to the aggressive reactions. Freud intro- 
duces repression in his lectures as follows: ''That 
pathogenic process which is made evident to us 
through the resistance (appearing in the course of 
psychoanalytic treatment) we will name repres- 
sion.' ' It occurs beyond the vision of consciousness. 
He further identifies it with another process, namely 
that of censorship. The watcher at the threshold, 
who prevents the entrance of unwelcome visitors 
from the unconscious or who extrudes them from 

1 Jahrbuch der Psychoanalyse, Bd. Ill, S. 1. 

27 



28 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

fore-consciousness, is also the repressing agency. 
Anthropomorphism is running rife here again. 
Freud says the essential function of repression is to 
keep painful ideas or impulses out of consciousness. 
The suspicions, distortion of judgment, accentuation 
of symptoms or invalidism that are called " resist- 
ance" present quite different phenomena, which 
might be related to, but could not possibly be identi- 
cal with, repression. If, however, the "censor" 
were a real person, he might be enraged at the threat 
to his authority made by the psychoanalyst and re- 
taliate with such behavior. 

One cannot escape the feeling, at times, that 
psychoanalysts failing in their therapy, find com- 
fort in talking diffusely about "transference" 
(which is flattering) and about "resistance," which 
somehow puts responsibility on to the patient and 
lightens the load of the physician. Resistance can 
be explained more readily as a failure of repression 
than as an evidence of its power and its symptoms 
can thereby be correlated with clinical facts. The 
process of psychoanalysis tends to arouse uncon- 
scious tendencies. In studying psychotic reactions 
we learn that they are not aroused singly but that 
stimulation of one unconscious idea tends towards a 
general autonomy of the unconscious. When this 
takes place repression automatically begins. If the 
latter were entirely efficient the gate would be locked 
and barred and the analysis would cease. Success- 
ful analysis occurs only when repression is gradu- 
ally lifted and the personality so educated that re- 
pression becomes discriminative. In an unsuccess- 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 29 

ful analysis the inflated unconscious processes are 
attached to the existing situation and appear as 
symptoms — hatred of the analyst, delusion-like in- 
terpretations of what the analyst has said and so on. 
The conditions are analogous to those at the out- 
break of a neurosis or psychosis and the mechan- 
isms are identical. A given situation — the precipi- 
tating cause — stimulates the unconscious and uncon- 
scious fantasies are woven around the elements of 
this situation which then appear as symptoms. So 
far as the experience of the writer goes this view 
is justified by the frequent recognition of definite 
paranoid tendencies in patients incapable of profit- 
ing by analysis and the observation that the most 
tragic failures laid at the door of psychoanalysis 
have invariably occurred in the practice of physi- 
cians who were ignorant of psychiatry. Violent re- 
sistance may be looked on as a psychosis precipi- 
tated by stimulating the unconscious of a psychotic 
patient. 

As has been stated, repression is held to be a pro- 
cess whereby painful ideas or impulses are pre- 
vented from entry into consciousness or fore-con- 
sciousness. In his essay on the "Unconscious," 
Freud narrows down the mechanism of repression 
in the psychoneuroses to a highly specific task. In 
the unconscious there are only ideas of things un- 
translated into words. The process of becoming- 
conscious involves such a translation. So the spe- 
cific task of repression is confined to prevention of 
any attachment of words to ideas. The untranslated 
ideas then remain unconscious. The original re- 



30 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

pressions take place in infancy and have to do with 
the formation of the unconscious. The repressions 
of later life are concerned with derivatives of these 
primordial unconscious elements. These secondary 
repressions are maintained by what Freud terms 
Gegenbesetzung. 1 The Gegenbesetzung forces a 
modification of the unconscious fantasies into a form 
acceptable to the censorship. An essential feature 
of repression is this formation of substitutes. Suc- 
cessful repression results in freeing consciousness 
from anything painful and Freud regards the 
apathy of many hysterics as an example of this. 
Less successful repression restrains the libido from 
direct expression but allows its transformation into 
anxiety. (See below under the discussion of emo- 
tions.) He admits that an affect cannot be recog- 
nized nor detected till it reaches awareness, so that 
any talk of unconscious affects must be speculative 
in the extreme. He thinks, however, that there are 
various affects attached to ideas in the unconscious 
and that the invariable fate of these is transforma- 
tion into anxiety as the result of repression. 

Various methods of handling the fear thus pro- 
duced are responsible for the symptoms of different 
neuroses, as will be discussed later. It may be re- 
marked now that " anxiety hysteria" with ' 'free- 
floating anxiety" represents a simple unsuccessful 
handling of this fear production. In phobias the 

1 Jonea has translated this by ' ' countercharge, ' ' using the analogy 
of electrical charge. But several of Freud's contexts show this not 
to be Freud's meaning invariably. No single English word seems to 
give the varied meanings of "Besetzung" so I have left it untrans- 
lated. 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 31 

fear is attached to a limited number of real external 
objects so that the patient is free from mental pain 
so long as he avoids contact with these objects or the 
repressed libido produces no more fear than can be 
attached to these objects. In other neuroses entirely 
different symptoms such as obsessions and compul- 
sions are substituted for the anxiety. 

The speculations as to the origin of repression 
lead Freud into a complicated problem. He speaks 
of repression corresponding to a flight of the ego 
away from the libido which it regards as dangerous. 
Repressed material is held in check, however, by a 
pressure exerted from the direction of conscious- 
ness. Resistance and repression both come from 
forces of the ego, that is "from obvious and latent 
traits of character." The ego, therefore, is repre- 
sented as something which both flees and repels at 
the same time and by the same process — an impossi- 
ble view; or else it must be a complex affair com- 
posed of divergently operating elements. This leads 
us to a discussion of the most difficult part of 
Freud's psychology. 

In the earlier years of psychoanalysis the dynamic 
elements of personality were held to be sexual, 
comprising auto-erotism and object libido, and non- 
sexual, or the ego impulses, which had to do with the 
instincts of self-preservation. In his later work the 
concept of narcissism has brought in a third factor 
with the introduction of "ego-libido." At the same 
time there has been a tendency to accentuate the 
aspects of the ego that are antipathetic to sex, giving 
the impression that the raison d'etre of the ego, so 



32 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to speak, is repression rather than self-preserva- 
tion primarily. For instance, the nearest approach 
to a definition of the ego, which Freud attains in 
these lectures is the following: "What powers are 
these which interpose objections to libidinous de- 
sires, who are the other parties to the pathological 
conflict? They are, in the widest sense, the non- 
sexual impulses. We call them comprehensively the 
ego impulses." Apparently in justification of this 
neglect of the self-preservation aspects, Freud 
claims that the latter are not pathogenic. For in- 
stance he says that the non-satisfaction of hunger 
and thirst never result in their reversal into anxiety 
as frustrated sex libido is held to do. On the other 
hand he admits (p. 355) as an inconsistency in his 
theories that normal fear in the presence of real 
danger is an expression of the ego 's instinct of self- 
preservation. The role he allows to the primitive 
ego impulses in pathological conditions is a con- 
tributory one. On page 331 he says that a "selfish 
ego impulse which seeks protection and personal ad- 
vantage, ' ' although not a sufficient cause for illness, 
favors its beginning and feeds its needs once it has 
been established. 

This is the case in the traumatic neuroses, par- 
ticularly in war. The evidence of the war neuroses 
would seem to argue strongly for the instincts of 
self-preservation taking a leading part in patho- 
genic conflicts, but Jones, Abraham, Ferenczi and 
Simmel have all interpreted their evidence as mean- 
ing that repressed "ego-libido" is the responsible 
agency. As we shall see the pragmatic value of 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 33 

' i ego-libido ' ' in Freudian psychology resides largely 
in the fact that it allows one to pan-sexualize human 
psychology. In one other instance Freud retains the 
ego in its original sense, again as a contributory 
factor. As we have seen he describes the develop- 
ment of the OEdipus complex as determined in part 
by selfish impulses. In another place he speaks of 
egoism teaching the child to love. So far, then, we 
see that the ego directs self-preservation, causes re- 
pression and is an accessory agency in the formation 
of the CEdipus complex and in the establishment of 
certain neuroses. 

How can a primarily selfish agency be responsible 
for repression I Although he does not explicitly say 
so this is probably due to the "education of the 
ego." The development of ego and sex, he thinks, 
are probably both innate, but they are also influ- 
enced by individual necessity (education). The edu- 
cation of the ego is direct and simple because the 
self can be preserved only in a limited number of 
ways. It is also, therefore, an effective education. 
The libido on the other hand remains governed by 
the pleasure-pain principle, very largely because of 
its capacity of expression in fantasy, with conse- 
quent divorce from reality and perpetuation in the 
unconscious. The ego is guided by the pleasure 
principle only indirectly and ultimately, but imme- 
diately by the principle of fact (reasonableness). 
American psychoanalysts would, probably, express 
this idea in the more biological terms of adaptation : 
the self can be preserved only by learning to adapt 
itself to the environment, while the libido can per- 



34 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sist without adaptation to reality. There is no doubt 
that this argument is, on broad lines, thoroughly 
sound and can be taken as a good reason for sex, in 
ordinary civilian life, playing the dominant role 
in the causation of psychopathological reactions. 
Elsewhere * Freud describes the development of an 
"ego-ideal" as a result of education of the indi- 
vidual. ( Since libidinous factors enter into this lat- 
ter education it cannot be held to be the "education 
of the ego" referred to above but as it would make 
a consistent argument we will assume that the two 
educations are essentially one. Self-interest cer- 
tainly could actuate such an ideal.) As a result of 
precept and example the developing child and youth 
builds up an ideal of what he would like to be and 
this standard becomes the criterion for censorship. 
A special faculty in the ego — conscience — sits in 
judgment on libidinous impulses and conscience, 
Freud says, is the same thing as the censorship in 
dreams. 

If Freud used the term "ego" as an equivalent 
for instincts of self-preservation operating via the 
ego ideal his formulations would be clear. Unfortu- 
nately he frequently employs the term as an equiva- 
lent for "personality," an inclusive label for all 
characteristics, no matter how acquired or developed. 
Quotations should make this criticism clear: "It is 
obvious that this ego [of the nervous person] is 
neither a reliable nor an impartial authority. For 
this very ego is the force that denies and suppresses 

J Zur Einfiihrung des Narzissmus, Jdhrbuch der Psychoanalyse, 
Bd. VI, S. 1. 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 35 

the unconscious. ... If one is to believe the evi- 
dence of the ego it would appear to have been active 
all along, all its symptoms would have been actively 
willed and formed. Yet we know that it has pas- 
sively allowed a great deal to occur, a fact which it 
subsequently attempts to conceal or palliate." 
["Ego" is here used in the senses of interlocutor, 
personality and ego in the narrow sense.] Such in- 
stances could be repeated indefinitely. Perhaps the 
plainest example of an unequivocal use of ego in the 
sense of personality occurs when he is speaking of 
the function of conscience, ". . . there is really an 
agent which continually watches, criticizes and com- 
pares the other part of the ego and thus opposes 
it. . . . [The patient] feels the dominance of a fac- 
tor in his ego, which compares his actual ego and all 
of its activities to an ideal ego that has been created 
in the course of development." The words which I 
have italicized can only refer to personality. Freud 
states (Lecture 22) that in neuroses a pathological 
struggle is waged between ego impulses and sex im- 
pulses. If, on the other hand, the ego adapts itself 
to the libido development, there is no conflict but 
sexual perversion. On the face of it, this seems 
quite consistent with his general views but a little 
scrutiny shows the logical implications of the state- 
ment to be embarrassing. If the libido triumphs in 
this manner a new ego ideal must be established, one 
which countenances perversion. If this be so, libido 
has contributed to the formation of the ideal, which 
is therefore not an expression of ego impulses alone. 
Like personality itself the ideal is a composite thing 



36 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

backed by self-interest, sex libido and, probably, 
social instincts as well. But if this were admitted 
repression could no longer be held to be actuated by 
ego impulses alone. 

There is another occasion for obscurity in Freud's 
discussion of the ego, which concerns the question of 
consciousness or unconsciousness. Ego in the sense 
of personality is mainly conscious, the ego ideal is 
purely conscious, as we have seen, while conscience is 
usually conscious but may (as the censorship) 
operate fore- or un-consciously. These discrimina- 
tions are rarely made in the text, hence such con- 
fusions as the following (p. 377) : "Besistance is not 
part of the unconscious but of the ego, which is our 
fellow- worker [speaking of psychoanalytic treat- 
ment]. This holds true even if resistance is not 
conscious. . . . We expect resistance to be relin- 
quished . . . whenever interpretation has enabled 
the ego to recognize it." If resistance be uncon- 
scious, how can it cooperate in psychoanalytic treat- 
ment ? The answer might be by way of transference, 
but Freud says distinctly that transference is an 
expression of object- not of ego-libido. So we are 
left in this dilemma. 

After all this we find ourselves little nearer solu- 
tion of the original question, what part of the ego 
flees from the libido in repression and what part 
repels ? The second question is answered. The ego- 
ideal as operated by conscience does the repelling, 
but what of the fleeing? Freud says that in infancy 
the ego is weak and therefore regards the libido as 
dangerous and denounces it. If he said that it fled, 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 37 

the answer might be that weakened ego causes the 
repression by flight, which could then be portrayed 
as a turning of the individual's attention from 
libidinous to other interests. But, unfortunately, the 
libidinous strivings which Freud writes most about 
are expressed with great freedom in infancy. In 
fact it is the period of life when repression in any 
sense is least effective. The only conclusion one can 
reach is that " flight from the libido" is a mere 
phrase prompted by anthropomorphism. It is a 
natural reaction when two individuals are in conflict. 

By far the most important addition which Freud 
has made to his psychology in recent years has to 
do with ego-libido. This is based on narcissism, so 
the latter had best be discussed first. This perver- 
sion was named from the myth of Narcissus, who 
was insensitive to the charms of women but fell in 
love with his own image. 

As I understand it, the narcissist is one whose 
libido derives no satisfaction from attachment to 
other persons but is occupied with his own person- 
ality. This introduces the two types of libido — 
object-libido and ego-libido. Narcissism represents 
an important stage in psychosexual development. 
The first phase is auto-erotism, where satisfaction 
is gained by irritation of parts of the subject's body 
without any concept of the personality entering in. 
Auto-erotism can exist without self-consciousness 
being present. (Freud does not make this discrimi- 
nation clear.) The next step in development occurs 
when the subject builds up an idea of himself for 
which he has a feeling of love. Self-love is nar- 



38 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

cissism. Physically this may be expressed in auto- 
erotic practices but can exist without auto-erotism, 
in fantasy alone. From narcissism the libido goes 
on to homosexuality (love of another like oneself) 
and to heterosexuality, where objectivity may be 
completely developed. Very frequently the alleged 
object of love is merely a lay figure ; the subject is 
in love with his ideal of what the loved one should 
be. In such a case the union is happy just in so far 
as the object of attachment is capable of identifying 
himself or herself with the ideal. This type of love 
is narcissistic because what is loved is not another 
person at all but an autochthonous ideal. True ob- 
jectivity occurs only when another person is loved 
as another personality and not only in so far as the 
object duplicates a fantasy of the lover. When a 
sexual object is credited with undue virtue (sexual 
overestimation), this is a product of narcissism, be- 
cause the qualities in question do not reside in the 
object (or not in the degree represented) but are 
fantasies of the lover, things he would like to see 
and, therefore, does observe. Such an attachment 
may pass for true love, thanks to its loud protesta- 
tions, but it is unstable. A puff of reality will blow 
it away. Eeality holds no terror for genuine affec- 
tion since the true lover is interested in a real per- 
son, not an imaginary one. From such considera- 
tions it is evident that narcissism is of fundamental 
importance. 

Freud has said little or nothing about the develop- 
ment of narcissism. This problem has, however, re- 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 39 

ceived most enlightening treatment from Burrow, 1 
who traces the steps by which self -consciousness and 
self-love grow out of the "primary subjective state" 
and a primary identification of self with mother. 
It is peculiarly significant that this, the most origi- 
nal and important contribution to psychoanalysis of 
recent years, has received no attention from Freud 
and his immediate followers. (It is discussed in 
Chapter 16.) 

Before proceeding with the discussion of ego- 
libido certain implications of narcissism and of 
narcissistic libido should be considered. Deduc- 
tions drawn from narcissism should be based on the 
phenomena that are peculiar to this perversion or 
complex. For instance, coexisting auto-erotic char- 
acteristics should not be brought into discussion 
since they can have independent existence. Simi- 
larly all the details of a homosexual or heterosexual 
attachment, which is founded on narcissism, cannot 
be utilized as evidence, since such unions, in so far 
as they are homosexual or heterosexual, contain 
elements of true objectivity. Again, the demonstra- 
tion of solicitude for personal safety or aggrandise- 
ment is not ipso facto evidence of narcissism for the 
instincts of self-preservation can produce such so- 
licitude and this interest can coexist with well- 
developed object love. 

It is when the libido that normally goes to others 
is fixed on an "Imago" of one's self that the situa- 
tion is narcissistic. If narcissistic libido has any 

1 Trigant Burrow, ' ' The Genesis and Meaning of Homosexuality, ' ' 
Psychoanalytic Beview, Vol. 4, No. 3. 



40 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

peculiarities differentiating it from other types of 
libido, these characteristics must be determined by 
the objective of the libido. Towards what is this 
libido directed? Not to the body of the subject 
alone, for if that were the limit of its application, 
narcissism would be synonymous with auto-erotism. 
The libido becomes distinctively narcissistic when 
it is occupied with worship and affection of the sub- 
ject 's own personality. The qualities of narcissistic 
libido must therefore be derived from the character- 
istics of this personality as it is viewed by the 
subject. 

Personality is never a completely objective reality 
but varies with the subjective bias of the observer. 
The John Doe known to himself is a different man 
from that known to his wife, his child, his servant 
or his business acquaintance. The personality to 
which a narcissist is attached is, probably, his ego- 
ideal regarded in unconscious fantasy not as a 
standard of conduct but as a real person. Narcis- 
sism implies, therefore, unconscious delusions of 
grandeur, power or capacity. But its implications 
go further. The ego-ideal is not the product of an 
isolated individual but of an individual whose 
standards are determined very largely by the pre- 
cept and example of parents, teachers and, later, 
society as a whole. In other words the ego-ideal is 
not an egocentric monster but an adaptive socialized 
human being. Even its most selfish component — its 
delusion of greatness — implies social approbation 
and, therefore, socialized activity. 

These ideas are inherent in the following sen- 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 41 

tences, although Freud does not express them in this 

form. 

". . . how are the concepts of narcissism and egoism to be 
differentiated? I think we can put it that narcissism is a libidin- 
ous inflation of egoism. When we speak of egoism, we have in 
mind only the needs of the individual; if we use the term nar- 
cissism, his libidinous satisfaction is also brought into considera- 
tion. As practical motifs the two can be separately traced for 
quite a way. One can be absolutely egoistic and still maintain 
strong interest in libido-objects, in so far as libidinous satisfaction 
in an object is one of the needs of the ego. Egoism is then on 
the guard to see that the striving for the object brings no harm 
to the ego. One can be egoistic and, at the same time, preponder- 
antly narcissistic, that is, have a very slight need of an object. 
This need, again, may be for direct sexual satisfaction or even 
for those higher desires, derived from sexual striving, which we 
are accustomed to speak of as 'love' in opposition to 'sensuality.' 
In all these aspects egoism is the self-evident and constant ele- 
ment, while the narcissism is variable." 1 (P. 360.) 

The last sentence is most important. The psycho- 
logical characteristics of any situation cannot logi- 
cally he described in terms of a variable element in 
that situation. Yet this, as we shall see immediately, 
is precisely what Freud does. Knowledge of ''ego- 
libido ' ' is derived from a study of narcissism accord- 
ing to his argument and is supposed to be synony- 
mous with "narcissistic-libido," yet once the term 
ego-libido is adopted the characteristics of egoism 
are assumed to reside in this particular type of 
sexual striving. 

Freud admits that the mechanisms of the trans- 
ference neuroses can be studied adequately on the 
assumption that there is antithesis and conflict be- 
tween object libido and ego interest. The concept 
of ego-libido he finds to be necessary, however, for 
an understanding of the constitution of the ego, of 

1 Translation emended by the Writer. 



42 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the fundamental mechanisms of sleep and dreaming, 
of the pathogenesis of dementia prascox, paranoia, 
hypochondria, the mental state in organic disease 
and of manic-depressive insanity. 

He begins his argument with an acceptance of 
Abraham's theory of dementia praecox, namely, that 
in this disease the capacity for attachment of libido 
to external objects is lost and that it is lost because 
the libido is withdrawn and applied to the patient's 
own ego. Proof of this is held to be found in the 
"delusion of grandeur" observed in dementia prae- 
cox. There is a similar withdrawal of interest from 
the environment in sleep, this interest being tempo- 
rarily turned in on self. Libido thus directed to the 
ego is called the ego-libido. Object libido and ego- 
libido are reciprocally convertible one into the other. 
He uses the physiological analogy of an amoeba, 
which when active protrudes its pseudopodia but 
retracts them again while in a resting phase. 

This analogy is certainly an apt one to describe 
the disposition of energy in dementia praecox or 
sleep; but is this narcissism 1 ? If so, dementia prae- 
cox and sleep should be regularly accompanied and 
dominated by delusions or dreams of grandeur. 
Every psychiatrist knows that prominent delusions 
of grandeur are rarities in dementia prascox. Prob- 
ably less than half the cases give even casual expres- 
sion to such beliefs, whereas megalomania as a domi- 
nant symptom is extremely unusual. Similarly, it 
is a matter of common knowledge that expansive 
dreams are not universal accompaniments of sleep. 
Although it is conceivable that Freud and his disci- 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 43 

pies are as ignorant of psychiatry as their state- 
ments imply, it is not conceivable that they believe 
dreams of grandeur to be regularly present in sleep. 
It is therefore probable that what they mean is that 
narcissism, with its egocentric and self -magnifica- 
tion tendency, is a regular component of dementia 
praecox delusions. This, however, is not scientific 
reasoning. One proves a theory by appeal to indis- 
putable facts, not by interpretations of facts made 
ad hoc. It is true that the delusional world of a 
schizophrenic has the patient for its center and this 
might be interpreted as inherently expansive, even 
though the patient may not represent himself as the 
God of this universe. But by exactly the same rea- 
soning it could be shown that all the vital interests 
of the most normal man are essentially subjective 
and not truly objective and that such a man is there- 
fore a pure narcissist. This, however, would be 
equivalent to saying that all instincts flow from 
narcissism, and this, in turn, would give such a wide 
meaning to the perversion as to rob it of any specific 
significance. We would conclude, therefore, that the 
symptoms of dementia praecox cannot be used to 
establish ego-libido as an outgrowth of narcissism. 
A second difficulty appears when one considers 
the nature of the process which Freud describes as 
a transformation of object- into ego-libido. Interest 
normally applied to objects is withdrawn and ap- 
plied, he says, to the self. This results in the emo- 
tional isolation and idleness of dementia praecox or 
in the unconsciousness of sleep. As we have seen 
above narcissism implies a contact with the world, 



44 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

hence a process which breaks that contact cannot be 
narcissism. Then what is it? It is a change from 
activity to inactivity, one of the most universal 
phenomena of nature, an event which is usually nor- 
mal but may be pathological and one having its 
special characteristics, physiological and psychologi- 
cal. Physiologically it is the assumption of a rest- 
ing phase in an organism whose metabolism cannot 
keep pace with its activity. To speak anthropomor- 
phically for the moment, the amceba who withdraws 
its pseudopodia is not lost in admiration of his great- 
ness, he is simply taking a nap. 1 Psychologically 
the process is identical with introversion. This 
Freud describes as a turning aside of the libido 
from the possibilities of actual satisfaction with a 
consequent inflation of preexisting fantasies. Think- 
ing is substituted for doing. This is what happens 
in dreams and introversion can account equally well 
for the symptoms of dementia praecox which Freud 
describes as evidences of ego-libido. Biologically 
considered, this resting phase is an adaptation re- 
lated to self-preservation. It should, therefore, in 
Freud's nomenclature, be classified as a reaction of 
egoism rather than narcissism. 

It might well be objected that calling this highly 
important psychological phenomenon introversion 
does not explain it, even though the term narcissism 

1 1 am leaving out of consideration the case of withdrawal of 
pseudopodia in the presence of noxious stimuli. This could, if one 
wished, be regarded as a fear reaction of immobility. The argu- 
ment could be carried to a greater extremity than Rivers (vide 
infra) does to prove that sleep and dementia praseox are danger 
reactions. This conclusion would be as logical as Freud's supposi- 
tions about the withdrawal of ego-libido and equally unwarranted. 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 45 

be utterly inapplicable. This is quite true. But 
might not any attempt at real explanation be prema- 
ture? A thoroughgoing solution of the problem of 
introversion would demand final knowledge of the 
physical causes in insanity as well as an infinitely 
greater psychological insight than we now enjoy. 

If the foregoing arguments are sound the idea of 
object-libido being transformed into ego-libido and 
vice versa seems to be untenable. One is, therefore, 
constrained to seek for some explanation of Freud's 
enthusiasm over this formulation, which, he says, 
may lead to such extension of our knowledge as to 
make previous psychoanalysis seem a small matter. 
There are probably two reasons which give the hy- 
pothesis pragmatic value for him. In the first place 
it provides a dynamic source for the process of 
repression. The most potent principle in Freud's 
psychology is sexual libido. If this be repressed, it 
stands to reason that the repressing force must be 
at least as strong as the libidinous one. Up to the 
time of this ego-libido scheme, there was no psychic 
element invoked to account for this process that 
Freud would admit to have dynamic value. But 
since " libido" is the driving force in the psycho- 
analytic system, ego-libido can be held adequate to 
cause repression without admitting the existence of 
dynamic principles other than the sexual — provided 
one does not follow out the relentless implications of 
such a theory. In the second place it seems to meet 
a still greater need, the solution of the problem of 
the disposal of energy in psychopathological condi- 
tions. The conclusion is inevitable to any observer 



46 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

of neuroses and psychoses, no matter what his pre- 
possessions, that morbid states are characterized by 
a deficiency of normal objective interest in the envi- 
ronment. Jung formulates this by calling the fun- 
damental energy supply "libido" and making this 
libido a general vital force, an elan vital, not neces- 
sarily sexual. As a matter of fact Freud's views, 
in so far as they are tenable, amount to just this. 
There does seem to be a transformation into a non- 
productive self-centeredness of the energy expressed 
in the normal man sexually and objectively; intro- 
version is the initiation of this process. The latter 
type of interest we have shown not to be libidinous 
in Freud's sense of the term. Therefore, that which 
is workable in his theory is identical with Jung's 
fundamental principle. 

The founder of psychoanalysis has considered this 
possible interpretation for he specifically eliminates 
it as valueless. He says (pp. 357, 358) that an un- 
derstanding of the "transference neuroses" is ren- 
dered possible by conceiving the underlying conflict 
to be between ego and sex tendencies which are sepa- 
rate and antithetic. These hypotheses are not mu- 
tually exclusive. There is no theoretic reason why 
fundamental energy should not be expressed in 
forms which would conflict with each other. In fact 
the metamorphosis of sadism, according to Freud, 
shows developments of mutually antagonistic love 
and hate. 

He goes on to say that ordinary psychoanalytic 
experience would never have led to the notion of 
object-libido turning into ego-libido. This concept 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 47 

has become necessary to him to account for demen- 
tia praecox, where the capacity for placing object- 
libido in the outer world is lost. The return of libido 
to the ego is, he admits, a normal process during 
such conditions as sleep, but when pursued beyond 
a certain point it becomes pathogenic. He concludes 
that libidinous interest in objects is maintained in 
order to prevent mental illness. "When so much 
libido has flowed back to the ego that the narcissistic 
libido is dominant, then return of it to objects is 
impossible. This process (pp. 363, 364) is closely 
related to the process of repression and must be con- 
sidered as its counterpart, — the conditions of these 
processes are identical as far as we can see now, 
with those of repression. "The conflict seems to be 
the same and to take place between the same forces. ' ' 

At last we seem to get some hint of what Freud 
means by speaking occasionally of repression as 
flight. He has an end condition in view, one where 
libido is separated from objects, or, in other words, 
a condition where the ego (in the sense of the indi- 
vidual) is not in libidinous contact with objects. 
Naturally this can be brought about in several ways : 
by repression of libidinous fantasies into the uncon- 
scious ; by introversion, i.e., the application of libido 
to pure fantasy divorced from reality; or by with- 
drawing the libido from objects and placing it on the 
ego. Only one element is common to these three 
otherwise different processes ; in all of them an end 
is made of actual, objective, libidinous outlet. 

But just as the nature of the processes is differ- 
ent so the end conditions differ. Repression, in the 



48 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sense given to it as a rule by Freud himself and also 
by other psychopathologists such as Morton Prince, 
means an exclusion from consciousness of definite 
ideas or fantasies associated with dynamic or in- 
stinctive impulses (the sentiments of Shand and 
McDougall). Introversion is the substitution of 
imaginary for actual outlet. The " conversion into 
ego-libido" is really two processes, not necessarily 
successive or related. Withdrawal of libido seems 
to occur as a pure reaction in such states of apathy 
as are encountered in stupor or epileptic dementia. 
The application of libido to the ego is really a sub- 
stitution of reactions actuated by self-preservation 
for those actuated by sex. A banal example of this 
is the interruption of love-making by some physical 
danger. Attention is withdrawn from the sexual 
stimuli and applied to the peril at hand. Similar 
events in the psychopathological field are seen in 
epilepsy where ego reactions are common. These 
are not narcissistic as we have seen. 

To return to repression, — it is evident that the 
confusion is occasioned by Freud giving one defi- 
nition to the term and then using the same word for 
analogous states. The ensuing difficulties are in no 
place more flagrant than in his remarks about de- 
mentia praecox. He has several times made the state- 
ment that repression is strong in that disease. Now, 
according to the accepted (and Freud's own) defi- 
nition of repression as an exclusion from conscious- 
ness of libidinous ideas of a kind repulsive to the 
ego-ideal, there is no condition in which repression 
is so weak as in dementia praecox, when sexual and 



REPRESSION AND EGO-LIBIDO 49 

even infantile sexual delusions are so common as 
almost to be universal. Apparently this inconsis- 
tency results from a confusion of repression with 
resistance. Since dementia praecox patients do not 
profit by psychoanalysis, and exhibit no "transfer- 
ence," a process involving object-libido, they are 
held to have a great deal of resistance. Then, as 
resistance and repression are the same there must 
be great repression in dementia prascox. 

Of course a faithful Freudian might object to 
these criticisms that Freud never intended to give 
such a narrow meaning to repression as is here in- 
sisted upon. This is possible. But if terminology 
is to have any value it must be exact. A process 
that can have as many variations as the three cited 
above cannot be labeled by one term. Again, if only 
one, but another, of the possible meanings be the 
correct one for what Freud calls repression, that is, 
if I have mistaken his meaning and assign the wrong 
original significance to the term, — then, starting 
with any other single meaning, as great a confu- 
sion is encountered as that just indicated. 



CHAPTER VI 

DEMENTIA PRECOX AND PARANOIA 

So far we have considered the main generaliza- 
tions at which Freud has arrived. There remains 
for discussion the application of these principles to 
specific problems in psychopathology. The most 
important problems have, naturally, to do with the 
origin and structure of morbid psychological symp- 
toms. 

Since our attention has just been directed to 
dementia praecox it may be simplest to complete the 
resume of Freud's views as to this disease. As we 
have seen, he regards its essential pathology as a 
withdrawal of libido from the outer world and its 
transmutation into ego-libido. In his essay on the 
"Unconscious" he gives three bits of evidence for 
this: (1) the incapacity of the patients to " trans- 
fer"; (2) the weaning of their interest from the 
outer world; (3) the signs of excessive interest in 
their own egos; (4) the end stage of complete apa- 
thy. The second is a generalization of which the 
first is a special instance. Loss of interest in the 
real world and people in it is certainly present but 
does not necessitate the conclusion that it is placed 
on the ego. Clinical experience shows that the at- 
tention of the patients is focused on fantasies. The 

50 



DEMENTIA PRvECOX AND PARANOIA 51 

nature of these thoughts can give us the only re- 
liable evidence as to the goal and type of the libido. 
There are ideas which collation shows to be related 
with adult sexuality ; with these are often connected 
delusions of persecution; there are infantile sexual 
ideas, variations of the CEdipus drama, which tend 
to increase in importance with the gravity of the 
disease process; then there are elaborate fancies of 
activity and theories of philosophy, discovery, etc., 
which are frequently tinged with expansiveness. 
Pure delusions of grandeur are rare and it is of 
extreme importance to note that the elaborate no- 
tions of a philosophical order which have a boastful 
coloring are the ones which bring the patient most 
in contact with reality and are associated with milder 
types of the disorder. 1 Such ideas can properly be 
called narcissistic and have that element of contact 
with the world which the ego-ideal, the object of nar- 
cissistic libido, must have. The behavior of the 
dementia praecox patient should also be mentioned 
here. So far as it is abnormal, it is determined by 
the delusions mentioned above or is an expression of 
auto-erotism in a pure, not narcissistic form. (I 
am speaking of course of usual cases. Sometimes 
one sees striking examples of pure narcissism, such 
as one man who spent hours every day exercising 
nude in front of a mirror. But such cases are rare.) 
In general, then, one can say that the tendency for 
dementia prascox is to show in severe cases autistic 
thoughts of a crude CEdipus order and auto-erotic 

1 MacCurdy and Treadway, ' ' Constructive Delusions, ' ' Journal of 
Abnormal Psychology, August, 1915. 



52 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

behavior. The milder cases often express ideas 
which are narcissistic (and sometimes expansive) 
but these are to be looked on as arrested cases, so 
that narcissism can only be regarded as an initial 
phase, not an end product. The third bit of evi- 
dence, therefore, the excessive interest in their own 
egos, is based on insufficient clinical knowledge. 
Freud gives only two instances of this, delusions of 
grandeur and hypochondriacal ideas. The latter 
are not so rare as is expansiveness but are far from 
universal. It is a question for speculation as to 
whether hypochondria does not represent a de- 
terioration of narcissism due to a preponderance of 
the auto-erotic element which, of necessity, is im- 
plied by self-love. The last point of evidence, the 
apathy, can be briefly dismissed. If narcissism be 
self-love, there must be emotion in it. It is only the 
self divorced from love that can be apathetic. 

It is significant of the disregard for the sympto- 
matology of the psychoses which Freud exhibits, 
that he has nothing to say about dissociation of 
affect. This, or more specifically, the acceptance 
with pleasurable emotion of ideas essentially pain- 
ful, is the one symptom which is pathognomonic of 
dementia praecox. All the others — divorce from 
reality, delusions and hallucinations, apathy — can 
occur in recoverable psychoses. 

Freud proceeds by recalling the fact that in de- 
mentia praecox many thoughts seem to be conscious, 
which in normal and neurotic conditions are uncon- 
scious. He hopes to elucidate the relationship of 
conscious to unconscious, and ego to object, by con- 



DEMENTIA PRECOX AND PARANOIA 53 

sideration of certain symptoms in schizophrenia. 
The first is that in their apparently senseless talk 
these patients often complain of bodily disturbances 
of which there is no physical cause. They them- 
selves will, however, explain the origin of the alleged 
symptoms. His first example is an excellent one, 
being highly typical. A girl complained of her eyes 
being twisted and explained this by saying that her 
lover was a hypocrite, he had made her see things 
differently, he had twisted her eyes. Freud calls 
this " organ speech" because changes in organs ex- 
press ideas, and he regards such complaints as hypo- 
chondriacal. But is this hypochondria? In this 
disease, as ordinarily described, the patient's atten- 
tion is focused on part of his body which he believes 
to be diseased because of what he feels there. Any 
elaboration has to do with the exploitation of pos- 
sible causes for the disability. This is the hypo- 
chondria of which Freud speaks when he uses it as 
an example of narcissistic interest. But the 
''twisted eyes" are something else. The patient's 
attention is here not focused on the physical com- 
plaint but on the perfidy of the lover. The disor- 
dered eyes are a proof of this and only one of a num- 
ber of proofs. True hypochondria does occur in 
patients suffering from dementia praecox but it is 
probably a coincidence and has no more to do with 
the essential psychopathology of that disease than 
symptoms of compulsion neuroses, which may be 
prominent in some cases. 

His second point is that in this "organ speech," 
as in the formation of other ideas, words undergo 



54 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the "primary process" of condensation and dis- 
placement, which Freud discovered in dreams and 
regards as highly significant of unconscious menta- 
tion. In schizophrenia the process is applied par- 
ticularly to words, which are used as symbols. 
Symbolization in the psychoneuroses depends on the 
resemblances existing in actual objects or processes. 
In dementia prsecox it may depend much more on 
words. For instance, Freud gives another typical 
example. A patient had a sexual interest in stock- 
ings which he explained by comparison of the open- 
ings between the threads of the fabric and the female 
genital openings. As Freud says, the resemblance 
here is not nearly so much of the physical character- 
istics of the holes as in the fact that the same word 
may be used for either. He is forgetful, however, 
when he says that such a process is characteristic 
only of schizophrenia. He has given countless ex- 
amples of similar events in his l i Psychopathology 
of Everyday Life"; it is fairly frequent as a 
symptom determinant in compulsion neurosis and 
a not unknown basis for a phobia. His deduction 
from this observation is that given above in dis- 
cussion of the unconscious: that the elements of 
unconsciousness thoughts are ideas not clothed in 
words; it is only in the fore-conscious that they 
are translated into words, or, more correctly, that 
words are added to the ideas. Applying these 
conclusions to dementia praecox he has to admit that 
the original concept of repression, as something 
standing between the fore-conscious and uncon- 
scious, should be modified to cover the material of 



DEMENTIA PRECOX AND PARANOIA 55 

schizophrenia and allied psychoses. But he does 
not say what this emendation should be. 

He does, however, make an effort to get away from 
the paradox of word-formations bulking so large in 
dementia praecox where unconscious phenomena are 
supposed to preponderate. He escapes by the claim 
that following the narcissistic regression, an at- 
tempt is made to reestablish contact with reality. 
This cannot be fully successful and only a faulty 
grasp of word-concept is achieved. These consti- 
tute the delusions. Freud offers not one shred of 
clinical evidence in support of this view that an 
early, enduring and fundamental symptom is a 
secondary manifestation of the disease. It seems 
to be a purely arbitrary construction that can serve 
no purpose except his extrication from a logical 
dilemma. 

Freud's theories of dementia praecox may be 
summed up in the classification he gives of manifes- 
tations in this disease. First there is such normal 
mentation as persists; second the symptoms of the 
disease process proper, namely withdrawal from 
the outer world, megalomania, hypochondria and 
"regressions" (not otherwise specified); and third 
the attempts at recovery which include delusions, 
hallucinations and changes in conduct. It seems 
strange that one of his insight could fail to observe, 
even in the material he briefly presents, that " organ 
speech," word distortions and delusions about the 
environment are all examples of the same type of 
thinking. The patient seems to begin with a central 
idea — or, more accurately, perhaps, a dominant 



56 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

theme — which is substantiated in his mind by per- 
versions: of bodily sensations ("organ speech"), of 
memory (delusional thinking), of perceptions (illu- 
sions and hallucinations). In so far as this theme 
is dominant all cognitive functions are perverted. 
When this theme is latent his mind can function 
normally. Of course these phenomena are dupli- 
cated in slighter degree in everyday life. The fun- 
damental problem is to discover how such a theme 
(or themes) can gain this ascendancy. Narcissism 
does not give the answer. When this question is 
solved it will be time enough to enter into such re- 
finements as the relationship of words and bodily 
sensations to normal or abnormal thinking. 

Closely related to schizophrenia is paranoia, an 
extremely rare psychosis in a pure form but, when 
modified, common enough as the " paranoid" type of 
dementia prsecox. In his recent publications Freud 
offers nothing new concerning this disease but re- 
peats the theory he expounded years ago. The 
delusions of grandeur are, of course, explained as 
narcissistic exhibitions against which no criticism 
is apparent. The delusions of persecution are held 
to be the outcome of homosexuality, unconscious or, 
sometimes, conscious. The patient has an attach- 
ment to one of the same sex, which is repressed. 
This repressed libido is then transformed in fear 
and hate of the object or a surrogate of the object. 
Freud claims that the enemy of the delusional 
system was always the most loved person in his 
life. This theory has been repeatedly published by 
psychoanalysts, each time accompanied by the his- 



DEMENTIA PRECOX AND PARANOIA 57 

tories of one or of very few selected cases. No one 
has, to my knowledge, ever confirmed the validity of 
this hypothesis by careful examination of a large 
series of unselected cases. Since the material is 
copious and available in any hospital for mental 
cases this neglect seems suspicious. In my experi- 
ence, cases like those of the authors mentioned are 
not uncommon but more usually the clinical facts 
refuse to fit the theory. If this observation be 
correct, there must either be more than one type of 
paranoid mechanism or else a new formula must be 
discovered to cover all types. 



CHAPTER VII 

DEPRESSION 

Another psychosis that shows a family resem- 
blance to the schizophrenic group is depression. 
Freud has new light * on this reaction, which unfor- 
tunately he calls " melancholia," a term usually re- 
served by psychiatrists for a form of insanity char- 
acterized more by anxiety than sadness and occur- 
ring mainly in the involution period. His argument 
is as follows: 

Grief and depression have in common a painful 
mood and a discontinuance of interest in the outer 
world. The latter comes from a a loss of capacity 
to love and a secondary inhibition of effort. In addi- 
tion to these features, depression shows a lowering 
of self-esteem, and self-reproaches even to the extent 
of imaginary punishment. In grief the loss is felt 
to be outside the sufferer but the depressed patient 
feels himself to be depleted. In grief there is love 
of a real object and efforts are made (mourning) to 
recall it in memory and fantasy. The precipitating 
cause of depression, on the other hand, is the loss 
of an object not necessarily by death but more often 
by disillusionment (e.g., abandonment by a lover). 
While the deprivation is invariably a conscious 

x In his paper, "Trauer und Melancholic ' ' 

58 



DEPRESSION 59 

matter in grief, it may be wholly unconscious in the 
analogous psychosis. The self-reproaches, too, 
which are so prominent in this morbid condition are 
not occasioned by a feeling of shame as they would 
be were they consciously determined. The patients 
show neither shame nor contrition before others, so 
that the judgment is entirely subjective. Further, 
the disgrace they feel is not the product of any 
change in their nature that they can record, for they 
say that they have always been that way. (Freud 
claims too much here. A complaint of both moral 
and physical change is quite common in depression.) 

If this problem is to be solved by analogy some 
adequate internal loss must be discovered, resem- 
bling the real occasion for grief. His theory is that 
there is a change and loss in the ego. Careful obser- 
vations show, he says, that reproaches do not 
always fit the patient but that they frequently do 
(with slight modifications) apply to some one who is, 
or was, or ought to be, loved by the patient. The 
complaints appropriate to another are directed 
against the ego. Justified self-reproaches are mixed 
in, in order to hide the real nature and origin of the 
accusations. Their behavior confirms this view for 
these patients are irritable and talk as if they had 
grievances, etc. (Not always, by any means!) 

The mechanism he then outlines. A real loss or 
disillusionment breaks up an object attachment. 
The libido thus freed is not applied to another ob- 
ject but withdrawn from the outer world. In the 
meantime there has been an unconscious identifica- 
tion effected between the ego and the object. The 



60 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

withdrawn libido is attached to this new identifica- 
tion and becomes the target for criticism, hence the 
self-blame. The loss of object is thus transmitted 
into loss of ego and the conflict between the ego and 
the love object is changed into a split between the 
ego-critic (conscience) and that part of the ego 
modified by identification. The self-reproach is 
further explained. The loss of a loved one is a fre- 
quent cause for liberation of the ambivalent, love- 
hate, tendency (e.g., in compulsion neuroses). This 
ambivalence is now directed towards the identifica- 
tion ego. This also explains suicide in depressions. 
Freud says that such ideas are a common reflection 
of murderous, unconscious thoughts but they are 
normally inhibited by the tremendous self-love 
which most of us enjoy. In depression, however, 
the impulse may succeed because the object of hate 
is identified with self, so that what is consciously 
suicide is murder unconsciously. 

This narcissism is a regression to a stage where 
there is a wish for identification by physical incor- 
poration. This may be expressed by eating. Hence 
Freud suggests that depression may represent a 
regression to the oral phase of libido development. 
He admits there is insufficient evidence for this and 
offers none except the citation of Abraham's hy- 
pothesis that refusal of food in depression may be 
a reaction to this. Another symptom, the fear of 
poverty, is dismissed without argument as an out- 
come of a regression to anal erotism. 1 

*See Chapter 15 for discussion of the relationship between anal 
erotism and poverty ideas. 



DEPRESSION 61 

The depression complex draws energy to it from 
all sides and so impoverishes the ego. (What com- 
ponent of the ego does he mean?) The patients 
cannot even sleep, for a primary part of this process 
according to Freud is a withdrawal of energy in 
service of the ego's wish to sleep (vide infra). A 
problem, he admits, is raised by the phenomenon of 
improvement of symptoms toward evening. He 
thinks this cannot be psychogenic and must be 
caused by somatic factors. 

This introduces another question. It might be 
possible to view the symptoms of depression as an 
outcome of physical disease which depleted the ego- 
libido. But many cases switch over into mania. 
These very cases have often been cured by psycho- 
analysis, so that they must be psychogenic reac- 
tions. This leads to a discussion of the psychology 
of mania as an extension of his depression theory. 
Great happiness and activity in real life come when 
obstacles are suddenly overcome. In alcoholic ex- 
citement there seems to be a toxic overthrowing of 
resistance. Therefore, he thinks, there may be a 
freedom in mania from an object that is intolerable. 
The energy, that in depression is turned back on the 
ego, is now free for expression. 

This is a most ingenious theory of depression and 
a creditable bit of speculation, just as speculation 
pure and simple. Unfortunately it does not fit the 
facts. In the first place loss, real or unconscious, is 
not the invariable precipitating cause of depression. 
This statement may be too strong, for one cannot 
deny that unconscious loss of an object might be 



62 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

present, although there is no reason to suppose that 
it is. But, at best, such an unconscious factor is an 
inference and one cannot found a theory on infer- 
ences made ad hoc. Secondly this work (like that of 
Abraham's which preceded it) is based on a small 
number of cases of a type, which extra-mural physi- 
cians are apt to see frequently, but which is clinically 
impure. These are what psychiatrists term " reac- 
tive depressions ' ' to signify that they occur as reac- 
tions to definite situations. Clinically, they seem to 
be mixtures of normal grief (exaggerated) and the 
symptoms of pure, retarded depression. Such a 
mixed psychosis should not be taken for an initial 
study unless it be first analyzed into its elements. 
Freud also uses symptoms, such as irritability and 
airing of grievances, as a basis for arguments that 
would be valid if these symptoms were invariable. 
They are not. 

One wonders why it is necessary to introduce the 
"oral complex." It is not needed and it explains 
nothing. Refusal of food is not a more striking 
symptom than countless other failures to respond to 
stimuli normally pleasurable. It would be just as 
logical to say that the inactivity was a reaction 
against regression to muscle erotism, etc. There is 
here, however, another criticism to be made. As 
Freud pointed out at the very beginning of his 
"Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie, " libido and 
object are one thing and specific impulse (Trieb) 
and goal are another. Libido is directed towards an 
object as a generality. This may be expressed in a 
number of ways any one of which is a specific im- 



DEPRESSION 63 

pulse (oral, anal, genital, etc.) to a specific physical 
goal. Since his whole argument is based on libido 
and its choice of object, the introduction of a specific 
impulse is merely confusing and gives a false im- 
pression of the analysis being carried to minutiae 
of universal application. It is interesting that ex- 
tensive experience with manic-depressive insanity 
seems to indicate that the specific impulse is a mat- 
ter of no pathogenic consequence, being in this re- 
spect in marked contrast to such neuroses as hys- 
teria when its influence seems to be supreme in direct 
determination of symptoms. 

The remarks about sleep are unfortunate. In- 
somnia is not an essential symptom of depression. 
On the other hand a frequent event is the aggrava- 
tion of symptoms following a good night's sleep, 
which would argue directly against Freud's claim. 
A still more unfortunate remark concerns the im- 
provement towards night, which he thinks must have 
some somatic cause. It is strange that Freud does 
not know that this is a diagnostic point of some im- 
portance in the discrimination of organic and func- 
tional disease, for it is of much wider application 
than in depressions alone. "When somatic disease is 
a prominent factor in the production of subjective, 
"nervous" symptoms, these invariably grow worse 
as fatigue increases during the day. The reverse is 
true in functional states. The latter is, probably, 
-an exquisitely psychogenic reaction, for it seems to 
be a lifting of the introversion tendency as reality 
repeats and reiterates its demands for attention to 
it on the part of the patient. 



64 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

The failure of this theory is most acute in respect 
to the correlation of psychopathological principles 
with the facts of prognosis. Any analysis is mean- 
ingless which cannot explain the outcome of a psy- 
chosis or, at least, be correlated with it. Dementia 
praecox, Freud says, has a bad prognosis because it 
is a narcissistic regression. His depression mech- 
anism is a more perfect narcissism. Yet the patients 
always recover. Although he does not give utter- 
ance to this dilemma the problem of prognosis wor- 
ries him. Eecovery from normal grief he finds to be 
due to an ameliorating process inherent in its symp- 
toms. Each thought of the lost loved one brings to 
mind the fact that the subject is still alive; gradu- 
ally the satisfaction of continued existence compen- 
sates the ego for its loss and grief is ended. In de- 
pression he thinks there may be a similar outcome. 
He sees two possibilities. First, rage at the origi- 
nal object may wear itself out. This seems to be a 
fairly tautological explanation. Secondly, the ob- 
ject may be abandoned as worthless. If this second 
possibility be not also tautological it involves us in 
further difficulty. Since the struggle is all in the 
unconscious, when judgment does not operate, it is 
hard to see how this conclusion could be reached. 
If the object and the ego are identified in the uncon- 
scious, what influence is there, in that part of the 
mind, which could separate them again? 

As to his theory of mania, Freud puts this out as 
a mere suggestion and says it introduces doubtful 
points and questions which can 't be answered. Un- 
der the circumstances, it seems unfair to criticize it. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE ACTUAL LEUKOSIS 

These psychoses comprise what Freud terms the 
narcissistic psychoneuroses. His psychopathology 
includes two other groups, the transference psycho- 
neuroses (conversion hysteria, anxiety hysteria and 
compulsion neurosis) and the "actual" neuroses 
("neurasthenia," anxiety neurosis and hypochon- 
dria). 

In his recent publications Freud has brought for- 
ward nothing that is essentially new about the spe- 
cific determination of symptoms in the "transfer- 
ence ' ' neuroses. This is his special field, his clinical 
experience is enormous therein, and it is, therefore, 
unlikely that he has made any significant errors in 
his discussion of the immediate pathogenesis of these 
conditions. The problem of the underlying conflict 
is a more general one, one to be solved by inference 
and by observation in other fields. This second 
problem provides the subject matter for his general- 
izations as a whole, and hence has already been 
treated rather fully. Only one important field re- 
mains untreated, namely the psychology of emo- 
tions, which will be taken up presently. We need 
not tarry longer, therefore, with the transference 
neuroses, except to remind the reader that this is 

65 



66 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the group of cases which are most available for 
psychoanalytic treatment because the symptoms 
seem to be determined essentially by psychic mech- 
anisms and the diseases occur in individuals of a 
certain mental elasticity which is exemplified in their 
capacity to transfer libido to the physician — the 
medium, it is held, of cure. 

The problem with the "actual" neuroses is 
claimed by Freud to be of a different nature. The 
symptoms, after exclusion of unessential, subjec- 
tive phenomena, are physical and the result of 
toxins. One might, therefore, be surprised at their 
being considered at all. There are, however, two 
reasons for their inclusion in his classification and 
discussion. The first is historical: these diseases 
were formerly always grouped with those pathologi- 
cal states which Freud and other psychopathologists 
have now isolated as psychogenic. The second is 
theoretical: just as there are parallels between the 
symptomatology of these organic and functional 
conditions, so Freud finds a parallel between the 
physiological pathology of the actual neuroses and 
the psychological pathology of the psychoneuroses. 

True neurasthenia is characterized by fatigue, a 
feeling of pressure in the head, " weakness" and 
"sensations" in the back, "indigestion" and consti- 
pation. It is supposed to result from undue loss of 
semen in masturbation or emissions. In the anxiety 
neurosis there is an overwhelming fear, which is to 
be psychically explained, while the physical symp- 
toms of dizziness, palpitation, precordial pain, 



THE ACTUAL NEUROSIS 67 

sweating, dilation of the pupils, etc., are claimed by- 
Freud to be the work of toxins sexual in origin*which 
were produced as the result of sexual stimulation 
without sufficient sexual outlet. They are all related 
to the physical manifestations of fear. That physi- 
cal factors participate in the production of these 
symptoms is certain, but whether they are primary 
or not (as they should be if Freud's classification 
stands) is another matter. Something physical hap- 
pens when we blush, yet blushing may be a psycho- 
neurotic symptom. The practical criterion for 
Freudians as to whether a condition be somatic or 
psychic in origin is its behavior under analysis. In 
this respect it is interesting to note that Freud and 
his followers have, during the course of the last 
twelve or fifteen years, steadily narrowed the bound- 
aries of these two groups. In other words, with in- 
creased skill in treatment, fewer cases have been 
thought to be true neurasthenia or anxiety neurosis. 
There is not one of the symptoms held to be classical, 
that frequent experience does not demonstrate as 
psychogenic? — that is, if removal by psychic treat- 
ment is to be taken as proof. 

Originally true neurasthenia and anxiety neurosis 
were the only "actual" neuroses. More recently 
Freud has added hypochondria. He thinks, appar- 
ently, that some kind of physical disease is present 
in these cases which occasions the painful feelings 
of which the patient complains. In the dyspeptic 
group there can be no doubt but that enteroptosis, 
disorders of gastric secretion and changes in motil- 
ity are objectively demonstrable. Of course the 



68 PKOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

latter two, at least, can result from purely mental 
influences but Freud, presumably, makes hypochon- 
dria an actual neurosis because specific ideas or 
impulses are not demonstrated to be translated di- 
rectly into the physical symptoms as in conversion 
hysteria. The most noteworthy thing clinically is 
the mental attitude of the hypochondriac. This is 
held to be a narcissistic regression. Libido is with- 
drawn from the outer world and placed on the organ 
affected. (As suggested above, this is more like 
auto-erotism than narcissism so far as the specific 
location of the libido to part of the body rather than 
to the personality is concerned.) 

Freud suggests that functional changes in the 
organs involved may be the direct result of this 
focusing of the libido. He compares the change to 
that of erection in the genitals and assumes that 
other organs may have erectile capacity, so that vis- 
cera might become swollen and tender as a result 
of local, libidinous excitation. It is probable that 
few physiologists will have much sympathy with 
this bizarre hypothesis. There is no problem in all 
medicine that is of greater importance or that pre- 
sents greater theoretic difficulty. The mental atti- 
tude of the hypochondriac is unquestionably the 
most important feature of the disease. The question 
is, does this attitude lead to a recognition of physical 
anomalies that would otherwise be ignored (cer- 
tainly this is sometimes true) ; does the attitude 
increase the abnormality ; or does it actually produce 
it? Quite possibly all three may operate in differ- 
ent cases or in different stages in the same patient. 



THE ACTUAL NEUKOSIS 69 

In view of the absence of any really thoroughgoing 
analysis of a large amount of this material both from 
the mental and physical angles, it is premature to 
place these cases in any one definite group as Freud 
has done. Some symptoms, which seem typically 
hypochondriacal, are found to have specific psycho- 
genic determination, e. g., constipation. Again, we 
find all kinds of wild physiological perversities dis- 
appear after a psychoanalysis apparently because 
there is an endocrine readjustment consequent on 
the establishment of mental poise. As an example 
of this I might mention one of my patients in whom 
menstrual difficulties ceased following analysis, al- 
though they were never even mentioned during the 
course of treatment. It is not at all impossible that 
in a few years this ''hypochondria" group of Freud 
will shrink as have the other conditions which he 
terms actual neuroses. 

The suspicion cannot be escaped in viewing the 
"actual" neuroses as a whole that a certain wish- 
fulfillment lies back of this classification. The first 
responsibility of every physician — particularly if 
he be a psychoanalyst — is cure. All these cases are 
extremely difficult to treat. In so far as they have 
physical symptoms, resistance raised during psycho- 
analysis, hides behind these symptoms immune from 
attack. May not the analyst also use them as a 
defense against the charge of failure ? Whether this 
suspicion be justified or not, it seems certain, at 
least, that this classification, in making which Freud 
confessedly turns the problem over to the biochem- 
ists, will not result in any stimulus to more thorough 



70 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

knowledge of whatever mental factors may operate 
in the production of these conditions. 

Before leaving the psychoneuroses one problem 
should be mentioned. Freud brings to our attention 
a most interesting point. He shows that although 
all kinds of mental complexes and traumata may be 
found to have produced symptoms in such a disease 
as conversion hysteria, the range of symptoms is 
small and stereotyped. He admits that he has no 
explanation to offer. It may be that Rivers' work, 
which we shall soon discuss, may throw some light 
on this. Freud is willing to consider the possibility 
of inheritance of primal, unconscious fantasies. Is 
it not more possible that the hysterical symptoms 
may be racial, as patterns of reaction, so to speak? 
If so, River's theories would go a long way towards 
clearing up this mystery. 



CHAPTER IX 

EMOTIONS 

Our next problem is that of emotions. All psy- 
chologists agree as to there being some relationship 
between instincts and emotions, although they may 
differ as to the closeness and the mechanism of that 
relation. Since psychoanalysis deals with instincts 
so intimately, one would expect that Freud might 
throw some light on the nature of emotions in gen- 
eral and the ontogeny of some of them in particu- 
lar. 

He gives us only one general statement about the 
structure of emotions. They are complex affairs, 
he says. First there are " indefinite motor innerva- 
tions or discharges"; secondly perceptions of two 
orders, of the efferent impulses just mentioned and 
pleasurable or painful sensations which supply the 
"feeling-tone" of the emotion, the affect. We are 
certainly in agreement with him as to the necessity 
of considering the feeling-tone as an entity separate 
from the perception of bodily changes, in other 
words, we agree with his judgment of the James- 
Lange theory as inadequate. Quite properly Freud 
is dissatisfied with this analysis as a solution of the 
problem for it says nothing about the origin of these 
reactions. Hysteria, however, he says, shows us 

71 



72 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

similar phenomena and the study of hysterical 
attacks demonstrates them to be reminiscences, that 
is, memories of some original event activated to 
the point of dramatic reproduction. He therefore 
concludes that their mechanisms are the same; in 
one case (that of the emotions) the original experi- 
ence is a universal one, which may belong to the 
antecedent history of the species rather than to the 
individual (hysteria). This seems to be a contri- 
bution to the pathology of hysteria rather than to 
the psychology of emotions, for this is precisely the 
theory of emotions usually known by the names of 
Shand and McDougall. A recurrent reaction which 
originally had a biological significance and repre- 
sented response to a definite typical situation is an 
instinct. Freud arrives then (in effect) at the not 
too novel conclusion that emotions are parts of in- 
stinctive reactions. These are his only generaliza- 
tions. 

As to the analysis or origin of the different emo- 
tions or emotional reactions, Freud at no place 
attempts any catalogue of them. One must pick out 
his observations as they occur. In an early 
"Liebesleben" paper 1 he differentiated the com- 
ponents of love into what may be termed passion 
and tenderness. The former is associated with 
genital sexuality, the latter with the innumerable 
impulses for extra-genital physical contact which 
Freud calls the infantile sexual impulses. If one 
regards this as representing the union of the mating 

1 Beitrage zur Psychologie des Liebeslebens, Jahrouch der Psycho- 
analyse, Bd. IV, 



EMOTIONS 73 

impulse with the type of attachment existing be- 
tween parent and child, we are supplied with an 
excellent biological standpoint for the understand- 
ing of one of the most important problems in psy- 
chology or psychopathology. In this contribution 
Freud showed a marvelous breadth of view and it 
must be regretted that he never continued his re- 
searches and speculations along this most fruitful 
line. 

His analysis of grief has been discussed above in 
reference to the psychology of depression. Only one 
comment need, therefore, be made at this point. The 
comparison of " normal " and " abnormal" reactions 
is an excellent method for the study of either, pro- 
vided it is properly employed. That is the phenom- 
ena explicable in one condition should be utilized to 
illuminate obscurities in the other, but mere famil- 
iarity with the features of one reaction should not 
be taken as equivalent to complete understand- 
ing of all its details, else false assumptions may be 
made or the method fail of its potential use- 
fulness. Freud notes that in grief there is no atten- 
tion given to the outer world and no activities 
indulged which are not connected with memories of 
the lost loved one. This, he says, is a restriction of 
the ego to an exclusive devotion to mourning. It 
is "not pathological, because we know well how 
to explain it." But do we? It may be familiar 
but it is not explained by anything Freud says as 
his remarks on this point are merely descriptive. 
Why should the object engross so much more atten- 
tion when consciousness recognizes that it has left 



74 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the real world? Study of the analogous pathological 
state might reveal the reason. He shows that in 
depression there is regression and identification. 
May not the same process occur in normal grief? 
The steps then would be : first the loss which trans- 
forms the loved one from a real object to one of 
fantasy, then unconscious identification of the fan- 
tastic object with earlier and more fundamental 
objects. The loss would thus result in a transfer- 
ence of the libido from the real object to those 
earlier relationships from which object love orig- 
inated and which continue throughout life to furnish 
the unconscious energy for all objectivity. In other 
words object libido would return to its source. No 
matter whether Freud be correct or not in his for- 
mulation of this particular type of regression and 
identification in depression, the demonstration of 
any regression would make the above argument 
valid. Failure to use this comparative method 
thoroughly has led Freud into difficulties. His 
hypotheses account for self-reproach, suicide and 
irritability but leave the retardation (a cardinal 
symptom) unexplained. Regarding the inhibition 
of grief as normal, he is forced to say that the anal- 
ogous, and much severer, symptom in depression is 
part of the grief reaction and he cannot understand 
why it should be so much more intense. The greater 
thoroughness of the psychotic reaction would explain 
this. 

We have refrained from any discussion of mania 
for the reasons stated above. As Freud makes no 
discrimination between the various moods found in 



EMOTIONS 75 

such states, no claim could be made of his having 
elucidated the psychology of these affects. 

It is an interesting thing that all psychologists 
and psychopathologists seem to discuss emotions in 
general from the standpoint of their study of fear. 
It is taken as a paradigm and any phenomenon of 
the fear reaction is presumed to have its analogue 
in any other emotion. Hence we find that, in prac- 
tice, all generalizations in affect psychology are a 
mere translation of the observations or speculations 
concerning fear. For instance, would the James- 
Lange theory ever have arisen without knowledge 
of the physical manifestations of terror? Freud is 
no exception to this rule, in fact the analogy between 
hysteria and emotions cited above is confessedly an 
analogy between hysterical and anxiety attacks. This 
is, of course, a most dangerous method and is prac- 
ticed perhaps only because it is so tempting. Fear 
is certainly more available for subjective or ob- 
jective examination than any other emotion. Its 
evidences are usually manifest and can be observed 
even in the physiological laboratory. In time of war, 
at least, it has great social importance. "We all 
know it, it comes dramatically to interrupt the even 
tenor of our way; we even know neurotic fear, be 
it only in the form of nightmares; most important 
of all we can recognize and name it when it comes. 
There is nothing subtle or intangible in a fright, we 
know we are frightened. Finally it is the common- 
est of all morbid emotions. It is important to bear 
in mind these reasons for its prominence for they 
throw light occasionally on the true origin and mean- 



76 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ing of what is said about fear. If other writers 
have used it as a paradigm in studying emotions in 
general, Freud makes it, in a certain sense, the 
center of all his psychopathology. A careful scru- 
tiny of his writings on this subject would therefore 
be justified. 

As has been mentioned above, Freud regards 
emotions in general as representing dramatized 
memories, the subject living through old experiences. 
This view, he says, is based on our knowledge of 
anxiety. When we look to find what initial experi- 
ence is reproduced in fear, a surprise awaits us. He 
offers us not clinical observations but a wild specu- 
lation, to which he was led, he tells us, by the words 
of an ignorant midwife! The initial experience is 
birth. It were best to quote his own words: "It is 
the act of birth by which that grouping of unpleasant 
feelings, discharges and body-sensations comes 
about, which has become the prototype for the oper- 
ation of a danger to life and since then has been 
repeated by us as a state of anxiety. The enormous 
increase in irritability through the interruption of 
internal respiration was then the cause of the ex- 
perience of anxiety. The first anxiety was, 
therefore, toxic. The name anxiety — angustiae, 
constriction — accentuates the characteristic of con- 
striction in breathing, which was then present as the 
result of the real situation and today is reproduced 
almost regularly in the affect. We also recognize 
the significance of this first anxiety state originating 
in a separation from the mother." 

Preposterous as this notion is, it should, perhaps, 



EMOTIONS 77 

be criticized. The last remark refers, presumably, 
to the psychic trauma of the act of birth. As Freud 
says himself, one cannot speak of emotions except 
in consciousness. No child either during or imme- 
diately after birth has a kind of consciousness that 
could gauge the meaning of this separation or feel 
emotionally about it. If the newborn infant has any 
consciousness at all, it must be of an entirely differ- 
ent order from that of adult life and of which Freud 
speaks in all other instances. On the physiological 
side the analogy is quite as faulty. There is no 
contraction of the chest during birth — it never has 
been expanded. If there were any chest sensations 
to be repeated they would be of expansion, for after 
birth the lungs are inflated for the first time. On 
the other hand, if perceptions there be, the most 
prominent one would certainly be that of constric- 
tion of the head. This is a rare feature of anxiety. 
It may be well to comment, parenthetically, on the 
type of error of which this speculation is an example. 
An idea may have dynamic force although it may 
have no foundation in fact. It then has a certain 
psychic reality. Unquestionably mythology, de- 
lusions and dreams are replete with examples of 
birth experiences, many of them cast in terrifying 
form, but this does not imply actual memory of the 
event. For various reasons birth fascinates people ; 
its actual repetition would fill the mind of any senti- 
ent being with terror. From these two elements, 
unconscious ideas of painful birth are produced and 
these may have psychic reality without being mem- 
ories at all. Fear of the devil has seemed very real 



78 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to many people but the modern man of science does 
not regard this as proof of the existence of an actual 
devil. Freud has gotten away from much of this 
tendency to confuse psychic and objective reality, 
in his recognition of the frequency with which in- 
fantile sex traumata are pure fantasies. This 
uncritical habit still persists, however, in psycho- 
analytic literature and gives some show of justifica- 
tion to those critics who assail psychoanalysis as 
mysticism. 

With the exception of this unfortunate specula- 
tion, Freud's arguments about fear are based on 
actual observations or deductions from observations. 
He uses three sources : fear in the presence of real 
danger, fear as observed in nervous patients and the 
fears of children. 

He deals briefly with what he calls real fear as 
opposed to neurotic fear. He says that in the pres- 
ence of actual peril fear appears before flight and 
is, probably, a preparation for the latter. When 
action is taken fear disappears. He thinks this real 
fear must be regarded as an exhibition of the self- 
preservation instinct, i. e., as an ego reaction. 
Later, as we shall see, he modifies this view. It is 
important to note, as Freud does, that with real 
fear something occasions it. There is fear of 
something. He thinks there must always be some 
object for this emotion. 

One of Freud's earliest contributions to psycho- 
pathology was his separation of the anxiety 
neuroses. Conditions where fear was represented 
directly as nameless terror or in physical symptoms, 



EMOTIONS 79 

he claimed to find as a sequel to sexual abstinence 
or frustrated attempts at relief of sexual excitement. 
His views as to the all-importance of inadequate 
outlet in the direct physiological sense have under- 
gone modification so that he now sees the problem 
much more in the light of disposal of psychic energy. 
Nevertheless his original view of the origin of the 
fear is still maintained: frustrated libido is turned 
into fear. He does not mean libido in the sense of 
an unconscious source of energy but conscious 
libidinous desire. He points out that many people 
achieve continence without anxiety but that those 
who have most desire are most apt to develop 
anxiety and that then the desire disappears. 
Further, anxiety is most likely to occur at those 
periods of life when sex is physiologically accentu- 
ated, such as at puberty and at the menopause. A 
characteristic of the fear thus produced is that it 
is vague, not focused on any given object or idea. 
There is a general dread which leads the patient to 
be anxious about everything. For this form of 
anxiety, Freud uses the term ''free-floating fear." 
The notion of libido turning into fear is, of course, 
one that jars one's prepossessions about emotions. 
It is difficult if not impossible to think of an emotion 
existing except as a reaction to some situation. It 
is like trying to think of heat as a substance rather 
than as a result of chemical or physical action. One 
would therefore be chary of accepting such a theory 
unless it were supported by much direct and con- 
tributory evidence. The idea of libido providing 
the fundamental energy for an emotional reaction 



80 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

is, of course, another matter. It is not theoretically 
unlikely. Perchance it might be possible to explain 
the relationship of libido to fear in another than 
the post hoc ergo propter hoc one. In such cases 
as I have had an opportunity of examining when 
this sequence was to be observed, the libido was 
always pathological and already or soon felt to be 
such by the patient. After analysis they experi- 
enced no more than a normal sex desire. In such 
cases one could regard the marked libido and anx- 
iety as consecutive phases in the development of the 
neurosis. One should note in passing that free- 
floating anxiety assumes an absence of any object 
or idea towards which the patient reacts specifically 
with fear. Other psychopathologists cannot con- 
firm the experience of psychoanalysts in this respect 
for they always find the fear attached to some con- 
scious or unconscious object. It is inconsistent, too, 
with Freud's own view that there is always some- 
thing to be afraid of. 

He proceeds by describing the phobias which 
occur in a clinically entirely different condition, 
namely anxiety hysteria. Here there may be no 
unfocused fear, no mental discomfort whatever 
except when the patient is confronted with some 
object or situation which invariably arouses a vio- 
lent reaction of terror. This is known as a phobia. 
The reaction may sometimes have some shadow of 
reasonableness, as when the fear is of something 
which might be dangerous but the general character 
of the phobia is that the stimulation is either quite 
innocuous in reality — for instance a fear of open 



EMOTIONS 81 

places — or that the response is quite disproportion- 
ate to the chances of accident, as in a fear that a 
bridge will give way while crossing it. But in 
hysteria vague fear may also appear, usually at- 
tached to any chance object. This latter fear Freud 
has analyzed and finds it to originate from the re- 
pression of an idea united with an emotion (of any 
kind). The emotion reappears as anxiety. Some- 
how or other, then, if any kind of an emotion is 
repressed, it can only reappear as fear. His next 
point is that in compulsion neurosis the patients 
are singularly devoid of fear except when the carry- 
ing out of their compulsive acts is interfered with. 
From this he makes an important deduction, that 
the symptoms in this disease (and, presumably, in 
hysteria as well) are developed in order to prevent 
the appearance of fear, for which they are substi- 
tutes. This makes anxiety occupy the center of the 
stage in psychoneuroses. 

The next point is to correlate neurotic fear with 
real fear where some truly fearful object is the 
stimulus to the reaction. This may be done, he 
thinks by falling back on the old conception of ego 
versus libido. The ego may be afraid of the libido, 
may have good grounds for regarding it as danger- 
ous. The various psychoneurotic symptoms may 
then be looked on as measures of defense. Appar- 
ently he feels the insecurity of this anthropomorphic 
formulation, for he admits that the libido belongs to 
the individual and therefore cannot confront him 
as an external force. How the mechanism of what 
he describes in these terms is carried out, he thinks 



82 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

may be found in the observation of childish fears 
and the analysis of phobias. 

So he describes the fears of childhood or, rather, 
interprets them. He says they occur when the child 
longs for the presence of the loved mother 
(reminiscence of birth separation!), in the presence 
of strangers who are not the mother, etc. In these 
situations the unsatisfied libido is turned into fear 
for it cannot be held suspended as in adult life. On 
the other hand children do not seem to be as appre- 
hensive of really dangerous situations as they should 
be. Consequently the terrors of children are of the 
neurotic type rather than examples of real fear. 
He discusses the Adler theories of inferiority and 
denies flatly that children fear strangers, strange 
situations, etc., because of a feeling of inadequacy 
but insists that they fear them because being ad- 
justed to those they love, they cannot apply their 
libido to new objects. He says that he substitutes 
observations for mere hypotheses. As a matter of 
fact both the inferiority and libido constructions are 
hypotheses to account for observations. (The only 
observations are, that many children are frightened 
in the presence of the strange, the unknown, the 
dark, etc. One cannot ''observe" libido, either in 
operation or in abeyance. Further, one should add, 
these terms are not alternatives. One may be more 
suitable to account for one fear phenomenon, an- 
other in another, and, often, they might both oper- 
ate, supplementing one another.) 

The analysis of phobias shows that they are, 
fundamentally, repetitions of the infantile phobias, 



EMOTIONS 83 

the difference being that there is not a direct and 
immediate transmutation of libido into fear in the 
adult. Unemployed libido produces emotional com- 
plexes of various kinds, these are repressed and in 
the unconscious the infantile phobias are re- 
awakened and return to consciousness. At this point 
Freud elaborates again his statement about any 
emotion attached to a repressed idea reappearing 
as anxiety. In this instance, however, the fear 
appears because the repressed emotional complex 
has led to a regression to an infantile phobia, rather 
than the emotion having changed directly into fear 
as a result of repression, which is the mechanism 
of production of free-floating anxiety. 

There is an incompleteness about this outline. 
Freud says the adult has learned to maintain unem- 
ployed libido in suspension, so that it is not con- 
verted into fear directly as in infancy. Repression 
first affects emotional complexes of which this libido 
is a part. Now this implies that the unemployed 
libido did turn immediately into some kind of emo- 
tion, although not fear. Since Freud uses fear as 
the paradigm for the understanding of all emotions, 
he has no right to take for granted a direct trans- 
mutation of libido into emotion, even though the 
emotion be not fear. This transmutation is the very 
problem he has just set himself to study. A second 
point is this: Freud describes precisely the same 
etiology and initial mechanism for free-floating anx- 
iety as it occurs in hysteria and for the phobias. 
Unemployed libido produces various emotionally 
toned ideas which are repressed and the emotions 



84 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

then turn into fear. In the case of the phobias there 
is a resurrection of infantile phobia. One naturally 
asks why the regression goes to the infantile phobias 
in one case and not in the other. The answer might 
be that in the former condition there have been 
phobias in childhood which have facilitated that 
reaction. But we know as a matter of experience 
that neurotics give a history of infantile phobias 
almost universally. This may be too refined a criti- 
cism, since it is beyond our present knowledge to 
state with definiteness the reason for one form of 
morbid reaction appearing rather than another. 
But the point is that Freud uses the analysis of 
adult phobias to explain how libido can be an object 
of fear for the ego and adduces therefrom nothing 
that is really new. In fact immediately after this 
discussion he says, as it were a conclusion of the 
argument: "I said that the transformation into 
fear, or rather a discharge in the form of fear, is 
the immediate fate of the repressed libido." This 
is precisely what he started out with. This gives 
no explanation of why the ego should be afraid of 
libido as of something objective. This could occur 
only if the patient were analyzed and knew the 
mechanisms involved and hence recognized that the 
misused or unused libido were responsible for the 
final appearance of the fear. 

To recapitulate Freud's generalizations: In 
anxiety neurosis there is a physiological transfor- 
mation of libido into fear; in infancy the same thing 
takes place on the psychological level. In hysteria 
either free-floating anxiety or specific phobias result 



EMOTIONS 85 

from the repression of emotions which reappear 
as fear. In real fear the ego reacts to real danger; 
in neurotic fear the ego fears the libido. The trans- 
formation of libido into fear is " explained" only 
in one instance (the case of phobias, where the as- 
sumption is made of libido being already changed 
into emotions) in other cases it is stated as a fact, 
which we have seen is open to dispute. The state- 
ment, that any repressed idea accompanied by an 
affect leads invariably to a reappearance of the 
affect in the form of fear, may also be questioned. 
"We are constantly repressing such emotionally 
toned ideas. The normal fate is the reappearance 
of their affects in not unpleasant form, else every 
civilized person would be subject to anxiety. Every 
analyst has seen numerous examples of this reap- 
pearance of complexes in tolerable emotions. That 
is, so to speak, what psychoanalytic cure consists in. 
The final conclusions are : the ego is afraid of the 
libido and the libido turns into fear. This incon- 
sistency, making fear originate now from the libido, 
again from the ego, Freud leaves unexplained in 
his lecture on anxiety. Later, however, in his dis- 
cussion of ego-libido he returns to this difficulty. 
He points out that real fear does not seem to be 
a libido activity as do neurotic fears. This dilemma 
might be escaped by assuming that ego interests 
(self-preservation instinct) may lead in actual 
danger only to adaptive action, while the ego libido 
may supply the fear. In support of this view he 
claims that we do not fly because we fear but that 
danger leads first to fear and then to flight. 



86 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

Before accepting this hypothesis we should see 
how it would apply to the two conditions of real and 
neurotic fear. First as to real fear: Freud claims 
that libido manufactures fear when it is denied out- 
let but he does not explain how this happens in the 
presence of actual danger. We might assume, per- 
haps, that he thinks the ego sees the narcissistic 
object threatened, but even this comes back to a 
fundamental ego fear reaction. It seems impossible 
to get away from the otherwise universally admitted 
view that the emotion of fear is a reaction connected 
with the instinct of self-preservation. The problem 
becomes more intricate if an attempt be made to 
apply the hypothesis to neurotic fear. Freud has 
already said that the relationship to real fear is 
established by assuming that the ego regards the 
libido (object libido) as a danger. The ego-libido 
would then supply the fear — how? The narcissistic 
object cannot be threatened because the offending 
object libido is regressive and weakened rather than 
aggressive. If, however, we imagine (which Freud 
never suggests) that this cutting off of object libido 
from real application leads it to attack the ego-libido 
(a terribly anthropomorphic formulation), then we 
are confronted with the old dilemma of libido being 
antagonistic to libido. For ego-libido to be inimical 
to object libido it must have changed its essential 
nature when it was derived from the latter (the view 
of libido being merely "energy" being repudiated 
by Freud). If it be different the difference must lie 
in its combination with ego interests. If it be not 
different (the difference being inherent only in the 



EMOTIONS 87 

object, i. e., self or outer world) then libido is not 
specific in its nature but a general source of energy 
as assumed by Jung. So again we return to the 
same conclusion that to get fear, the instinct of 
self-preservation must operate. Freud's attempt 
to pan-sexualize emotions fails. 

Yet it is probably unfair to make this ambition 
the sole determinant of the futile intricacies of 
Freud's argument. His immediate task is the solu- 
tion of clinical problems. The phenomena which are 
assembled under the interpretative heading of 
* ' cutting-off of the libido" do lead to the "fear," 
which he attempts to explain. But is it fear? No 
attempt is made to analyze and accurately describe 
the emotion. Frequently real fear may be present 
but in general, it were more accurate to say that an 
unpleasant affect is present. As has been stated 
above, fear is an easily comprehended and univer- 
sally experienced emotion and, in consequence, is 
often used carelessly to designate any unpleasant 
affective state in which there is a prospective un- 
pleasantness. Examples from common speech may 
illustrate this. If I say "I'm afraid it will rain 
today," I do not mean that I shall be terrorized by 
the rain when it comes. I am using the analogy of 
a strong, painful emotion to express the idea of rain 
making me unhappy. Freudians have made a good 
deal of the popular expression "I am anxious to do 
something" as an example of the relationship of 
libido to fear. It would be more accurate to say 
that this is an example of the relationship of unap- 
plied libido to a painful emotion. "I am anxious 



88 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to" is equivalent to saying "I'll be disappointed if 
I don't." It is easier to recognize the poignant 
state of fear than the vague one of disappointment. 
Everyday speech is full of such hyperboles. If a 
girl says "I just love chocolates," would one take 
this as an instance of love being derived from nu- 
tritional impulses? The psychopathology of emo- 
tions will never be understood until accurate 
discriminations are made between the different 
affects and the phenomena studied which accompany 
each specific reaction. 1 

Although unapplied libido leads directly to a 
peculiar and unpleasant state of tenseness from 
which varied distressful emotions are apt to emerge, 
it cannot be denied that a reaction of anxiety is 
peculiarly apt to appear. This is perhaps to be 
accounted for on the basis of the projection mecha- 
nism, which is the commonest unconscious escape 
from the impasse. Libidinous satisfaction not being 
gained by the direct efforts of the subject, the lack 
is made good by fantasies of others taking the initia- 
tive. These aggressions are readily symbolized by 
general bodily, in place of frankly sexual, attacks 
and the fear develops as a response to these active 
unconscious (or co-conscious?) fantasies of what 
would be actual dangers if enacted in real life. 

1 Freud is not the only psychopathologist who is guilty of this care- 
lessness. In fact, it is rather universal. A good example of such 
looseness occurs in Prince's discussion of his famous "churchbell 
phobia." The description shows that a complicated emotional state 
was present in these attacks, in which depression probably out- 
weighed true fear. 



EMOTIONS 89 

There is ample objective evidence of this to be found 
in the psychoses and inferences (in my experience) 
from the analysis of neurotic patients support the 
same view. 



CHAPTER X 

DEEAMS 

The next problem is that of dreams. Freud has 
summed up his latest views on this subject in his 
paper on " Metapsychological Additions to Dream- 
Science." Metapsychology is a new term he has 
coined for the viewing of mental phenomena from 
three standpoints. The first is the topical, i. e., 
whether the phenomenon is conscious, fore-conscious, 
unconscious or one that takes place in transition 
from one of these divisions to another. The second 
is the dynamic, under which heading he considers 
the source of the energy {Besetzung or libido) which 
actuates the phenomenon. The third is the 
economic, which is an attempt to gauge the relative 
strengths of the interacting forces. The first two 
standpoints have been represented in the abstract 
of Freud's present views on consciousness, fore- 
consciousness and the unconscious given above. At 
no place does he seem to elaborate or make any 
particular use of his third principle. This is per- 
haps natural, since it is difficult to see how any 
"dynamic" study can be made which does not of 
necessity include all the considerations of quantita- 
tive adjustment or balance that he puts into a sep- 
arate compartment in his metapsychology. These 

90 



DREAMS 91 

divisions do not seem to be happy ones but at least 
they serve one useful service. It is an attempt to 
clear up the confusion (particularly in the minds of 
those whose experience with psychoanalysis is 
purely literary) as to how such a word as 
" unconscious " can be used at different times to 
mean something out of awareness, something tabu, 
something primitive, infantile or instinctive, some- 
thing that produces symptoms, and so on. When 
Freud discusses dreams metapsychologically, it 
means that he will consider both the localization and 
dynamics of the elements which enter into dream 
construction. 

It may be said in introducing a digest of this work 
that Freud seems to have elaborated a most intri- 
cate structure in his dream theory, the complications 
of which are due more to the necessity of anastomos- 
ing this with other branches of his psychological 
system than to the urgency of unexplained phe- 
nomena. In other words he is not merely engaged 
in accounting for the details of actual dreams but 
finds himself obliged to hypothesize a development 
in the dream structure that can be described in 
terms of the psychic elements he has utilized in the 
study of the psychoneuroses. 

"We have noted above that Freud regards sleep 
as a regressive process consisting essentially in a 
withdrawal of object libido from the outer world 
and its conversion into pure narcissistic libido. This 
view has already been criticized. He begins his 
essay with a statement of the developmental regres- 
sions in sleep: the ego, which during waking life 



92 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

has learned to recognize reality falls back to the 
stage where hallucinations are acceptable, while the 
libido returns to the narcissistic phase. In con- 
nection with the latter he cites the so-called 
" diagnostic dreams" in which bodily disturbances 
are represented, which have not yet sufficiently de- 
veloped to obtrude themselves on the waking con- 
sciousness. This he regards as a hypochondriacal 
tendency, an evidence of libido being withdrawn 
from the environment and placed on the body. This 
hypothesis will be criticized later. This regression 
is not a permanent reaction as in dementia praecox 
and so any stimulus which tends to produce a re- 
action of the waking type (motor response) is apt 
to waken the sleeper. Dreams exist to dispose of 
these stimuli, which may be either external (sensory 
impressions) or internal (thoughts which would 
incite to action). 

In the dream appropriate actions to abolish the 
stimuli are hallucinated and so the dream is a 
guardian of sleep. "When dreams are so vivid as to 
disturb sleep Freud says this is like the action of 
a watchman who wakes the inhabitants of a house 
to meet a band of marauders too powerful for him 
to cope with alone. The more important of the 
stimuli are the internal psychic ones. In his lectures 
Freud says, " These are unfulfilled wishes. The 
dreamer does not wish to withdraw interest from 
the world and therefore does not sleep. The dream 
disposes of the wish and is, therefore, a guardian 
of sleep. ' ' This argument rests on the unnecessary 



DREAMS 93 

assumption that sleep to be perfect must be free of 
mental content, free from all psychic activity. 

An alternative view ought also to be considered, 
namely that we sleep in order to indulge in dreams, 
or rather, that we may enjoy another type of psychic 
activity. A good deal of evidence could be presented 
in favor of this hypothesis. On this basis we would 
accept such dreams as show plainly a response to 
external stimuli at their face value. For instance, 
if the telephone bell rings and I dream that I get 
up and answer it, we could say that I would rather 
dream of this action than actually perform it. Such 
a formulation as this is so close to Freud's as to be 
almost identical, yet its literal meaning when elab- 
orated leads to an opposite viewpoint. As a matter 
of fact one hypothesis explains the known phenom- 
ena as well as the other; we have not sufficient evi- 
dence in this field on which to base conclusions. For 
instance sleep may consist in a raising of the 
threshold for sensory stimuli so that only supralim- 
inal stimuli affect dreams, or, it may be that dreams 
(as Freud says) dispose of all stimuli except very 
strong ones in which case the threshold might be 
the same essentially as in the waking state. When 
such alternate hypotheses are at our disposal, choice 
is best made pragmatically. Let us see how work- 
able is Freud's theory of dream construction. 

He says that the most interesting and least trans- 
parent case of reaction to stimuli is that initiated 
by the " day-remnants " and from it he builds up 
the whole development of the dream. The day- 
remnants are experiences of the day before the sleep, 



94 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

or of a slightly longer period of the recent past, 
which set up fore-conscious mental processes. These 
do not fall in with the general withdrawal of libido 
and are recognized, during the procedure of psycho- 
analysis as the latent dream thoughts. The first 
problem is to discover the reason for their resist- 
ance to the general libido withdrawal. Freud thinks 
that this must be due to unconscious reinforcement, 
which may be effected in virtue of the weakened 
censorship between the fore-conscious and uncon- 
scious during sleep. But the unconscious is supposed 
to suffer from narcissistic regression like the con- 
scious and fore-conscious. Freud therefore assumes 
that part of the unconscious has become independent 
of the ego, just as there is a corresponding modifi- 
cation of the censorship. The latter although 
weakened still operates to prevent too free expres- 
sion of unconscious impulses. His formula there- 
fore is : ' ' The wish to sleep tries to draw back all 
the interests of the ego which have been externally 
expressed and establish an absolute narcissism. 
This can succeed only in part because the repressed 
material of the unconscious does not follow the wish 
to sleep. A part of the Gegenbesetzung must there- 
fore be maintained and the censorship between 
unconscious and fore-conscious must remain al- 
though not in full strength. So far as the power 
of the ego extends, all its activities are deflated. 
The greater the amount of energy placed in the un- 
conscious, the more easily is sleep disturbed." In 
extreme cases, dreams may be so terrific as to make 



DREAMS 95 

the subject afraid to go to sleep, i. e., abandon the 
wish to sleep. 

One may remark parenthetically that this seems 
to be a complicated way of saying: The sleep 
process affects only consciously directed thinking; 
unconscious processes have relative freedom in 
sleep and may even disturb sleep. What this 
simpler statement omits is a nomenclature that adds 
nothing — so far — to an understanding of the dream 
problem as such. 

In addition to the unconscious processes which 
do not fall under the sway of the ego's wish to 
sleep are the fore-conscious thoughts which Freud 
labels " day-remnants. ' ' Their resistance may be 
due to contact established during the day with the 
unconscious, or, before sleep withdrawal is com- 
plete these fragments may make contact in virtue 
of a weakened censorship. In either case the un- 
conscious activities are expressed through the 
material of the fore-conscious day-remnants and 
thus the dream wish (wish-fulfillment fantasy) is 
formed. This last is not to be confused with the 
day-remnants ; it did not exist before sleep and has 
the irrational character Q distinctive of unconscious 
processes. It should also not be confused with other 
wishes (Freud evidently means of the diurnal type) 
which may also be discovered in the fore-conscious 
dream thoughts. The fore-conscious wishes, when 
present, are merely overdeterminants of dream 
wishes. 

Here again we believe the essential phenomena 
may be stated more simply : analysis shows that un- 



96 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

conscious forces may utilize for their expression 
ideas or words remembered from the dream-day; 
these day-remnants may make contact with the 
unconscious before or during sleep; the wish-ful- 
fillment fantasy thus formed is not a diurnal wish 
(although it may parallel one), nor yet is it a logical 
repetition of the day experiences. Two elements 
are here omitted, censorship and any mention of 
the fore-conscious. How can one speak of fore- 
consciousness during sleep? In terms of its defini- 
tion in relation to its capacity of becoming conscious 
it should mean such thoughts as are present in the 
dreamer's mind and of which he could become aware 
if he willed. But direct examination of mental oper- 
ations either subjectively or objectively is impossible 
during sleep. All we have to go on is the subject's 
memory of dreams. Freud might, conceivably, be 
referring to such parts of a dream as can be recalled 
only with effort. But there is nothing in the context 
to indicate this, which would involve most radical 
changes in his theories. Of course Freud might be 
referring to mental processes which have the qual- 
ities of fore-conscious thought. The futility of this 
discrimination has been discussed earlier in this 
criticism (p. 10). " Fore-consciousness" in dreams 
seems, therefore, to be an artificiality not related 
to dream phenomenology. 

The inclusion of censorship seems also to be re- 
dundant. Elsewhere Freud makes censorship work 
like a one-way valve — it prevents the unconscious 
material from becoming conscious, but he gives no 
other indications (that I am aware of) of it working 



DREAMS 97 

in the other direction. The phenomena, too, with 
which he works do not suggest that movement in 
the other direction is hampered. It seems quite 
likely, on the contrary, that conscious thoughts are 
always available, either in diurnal or dream life, 
for unconscious elaboration. The unconscious seems 
always to be in contact with out conscious life. It 
is the reciprocal knowledge which is banned by the 
censorship. Consequently, it is not necessary to 
presume any abeyance of the censorship, when the 
day-remnants make contact with unconscious 
processes. 

To proceed with Freud's argument. There are 
three possible fates for this dream wish (wish-ful- 
fillment fantasy). 1. It may be expressed in 
consciousness as such, that is as delusions of wish- 
fulfillment, which never occurs in dreams. 2. It 
may reach direct motor expression. This is rare 
but does occur in somnambulisms. 3. Regression. 
This last is the usual process and involves the 
" dream- work, " the discovery of which is probably 
one of Freud's most original and profoundly im- 
portant discoveries. 

The regression consists in the transformation of 
the fore-conscious representation of the dream wish 
into images (mainly visual) which are unconscious 
in type. This is regressive both as to type of think- 
ing, verbal into hallucinatory, and as to development 
of thinking, for the hallucinatory is a primitive and 
original form of mentation. The end result of the 
regression is a dramatization of the dream wish. 
But this is not a simple matter. The first phase of 



98 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

regression results in an activation of unconscious 
memories (infantile wishes). These suffer the 
"primary processes" 1 of condensation and displace- 
ment and thus the manifest content is produced. The 
manifest content becomes conscious in the form of 
hallucinations. The wish is fulfilled in the belief of 
the dreamer in its reality. 

The mechanism by which hallucinations of dreams 
give a feeling of reality presents to Freud an im- 
portant problem, which he attempts to solve by 

1 Symbolism of which Freud does not write in this essay is a 
product of the "primary processes." He devoted one of his lec- 
tures to it, however. He there makes some disquieting statements. 
For instance, he says that symbols can often not be analyzed as they 
occur in patients' dreams but must be translated directly. He as- 
sumes the existence of a fundamental symbolic language which is 
inherited and unconscious. That this involves an acquiescence with 
one of Jung's fundamental claims will interest only those of po- 
lemical spirit. A much more important point should be considered. 
Is such an assumption justified? From a practical standpoint it is 
dangerous for it facilitates superficial "wild psychoanalysis." It 
also departs from the basic psychoanalytic principle of individual 
determinism of thoughts and symptoms. Oh page 161 he cites a 
dream of a peasant woman ignorant of psychoanalysis as an example 
of sexual symbols. The writer, after ten years' work at analysis, 
would hazard only one guess on reading it over, namely that each 
detail of the dream was an echo of some actual experience of the 
woman and that a significant interpretation could be secured only 
after hearing the dreamer's free associations to the various elements. 
This conclusion is the result of frequent disillusionment with the 
"translation" method. Many a dream has seemed transparent when 
first recited but its meaning turned out to be quite different as soon 
as the patient began his free associations. From a theoretic stand- 
point the validity of the universal-symbolic-language hypothesis 
should be regarded as premature and unsafe. The school of ethnolo- 
gists headed by Eivers and Elliot Smith have, of recent years, di- 
rected serious arguments against it, backed by weighty evidence. 



DREAMS 99 

analogies from the psychoses. In Meynert's 
"Amentia" (frequently called " Toxic-Exhaustive 
Psychosis" in this country) he says that one gets 
simple daydream-like hallucinatory wish-fulfill- 
ments. Hallucinations probably constitute a 
primitive form of thinking but a highly unpractical 
one. Hence a method of proving reality develops 
in order to discriminate between inner and outer 
impressions. This is accomplished by muscular 
action. When a perception can be dissipated by 
motor activity it is recognized as real. This is a 
function of consciousness. In amentia the ego finds 
reality intolerable and withdraws from conscious- 
ness that activization (Besetzung) which has to do 
with the proving of reality. (Freud seems to treat 
amentia as a functional, psychogenic psychosis, 
although it is regarded by all schools of psychiatry 
as fundamentally organic in origin.) This is a psy- 
chotic "regression." In dreams it is performed 
voluntarily as part of the sleeping process. In 
dementia praecox hallucinations occur when the ego 
is so disintegrated that the faculty of proving real- 
ity is lost. 

This is a most curious argument designed to prove 
that there is a disturbance of consciousness in 
dreams and amentia, although this can be demon- 
strated with facility by a wealth of clinical symp- 
toms such as disorientation. This demonstration is 
so easy that it is taken for granted by all dreamers 
and by psychiatrists in so far as amentia is con- 
cerned. The argument is, therefore, superfluous. 
It is also tautological. In effect it is this : In these 



100 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

conditions that which normally inhibits hallucina- 
tion has disappeared. We know that it has gone 
because hallucinations occur. That the feeling of 
reality is tested purely by motor activity is a matter 
open to dispute. How could muscular action dis- 
criminate between memories of real and unreal 
events? Both are inner perceptions in Freud's 
terminology. I may recall that I was in a train 
yesterday, and feel that to be a real memory, and I 
can recall that I was in a submarine last night and 
feel that to be false, that I only dreamed it. Con- 
versely, I can know that I have been on a train yet 
have the feeling of something unreal about the ex- 
perience or I can know that I have been dreaming 
and yet dispel with difficulty the feeling of reality 
I have about the dream events. Muscular activity 
is unquestionably a factor in the testing of reality 
but the process is not so simple as that. At least one 
other factor (probably more) has to be considered, 
namely memory. 

We may conclude discussion of Freud's dream 
psychology with a few general criticisms. His no- 
tion of narcissistic withdrawal of libido in sleep has 
been dealt with already. One other point may be 
added now. Hypochondria, he says, is a form of 
narcissistic satisfaction (vide " diagnostic" dreams 
above) ; in hypochondria this satisfaction is gained 
by perception of visceral stimuli. If the libido for- 
mulation held true, organic disturbances would 
increase the narcissistic tendency and hence favor 
sleep. Visceral pain would deepen sleep instead of 
abolishing it. 



DREAMS 101 

The most important general consideration is that 
of the nature of the material with which one deals. 
Freud seems to regard the manifest form of the 
dream as if it were a fixed and definite structure, 
the construction of which can be analyzed out into 
sharply definable elements. He looks on it as it 
were a finished house; he can see the ambition of 
the owner, the taste of the architect, the craft of the 
contractor all working with so much lumber, nails, 
stone, mortar, and so on. But it must be borne in 
mind that the dream only takes on this aspect oi 
immutability when it has been committed to writ- 
ing or to memory. If one, during the waking-up 
period, forces his attention back to the experiences 
he has just been through, he finds that the memory 
of one image or set of images calls up another and 
another, some clear, some vague and elusive. When 
one is clearly focused in attention the others seem 
to slip out of consciousness in a most baffling way. 
The dreamer seems to be in a maze of moving- 
pictures, he feels that he has dreamed of thousands 
of things but to bring them all into his waking con- 
sciousness is an impossible task and that the effort 
is inexplicably difficult. Some items are chosen for 
concentrated attention, he holds them in mind as he 
achieves full waking consciousness. After some 
hours of diurnal activity, this memory may become 
clear and distinct ; there is no longer that penumbra 
of elastic elaboration which it had when he first 
began to think of it. All this suggests that the final 
remembered dream is only a highly selected frag- 



102 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ment and that it attains definiteness only when this 
selection is complete. 

Those who have practiced themselves in the art 
of introspection and retrospection during the period 
of morning drowsiness are aware of the fact that a 
richness of detail can often be secured which betrays 
the significance of the central data of the dream. 
Not infrequently free associations during analysis 
will resuscitate these details, which when secured 
may complete the analysis, up to a certain point. 

An example may make this clearer. A patient 
dreamed of a house with an ash can in front of it — 
at least that was all that he could remember in the 
afternoon. He felt rather depressed and knew that 
his mood was connected somehow with the dream, 
''as if my hopes were buried in that ash can." 
When asked to describe the house he said it was an 
ordinary New York brownstone front but his asso- 
ciations led quickly to a particular house in Boston. 
This was the home of an elderly friend of his to 
whom he had written only the day before. Then he 
recalled more of the dream. His friend had come 
out of the house carrying a piece of paper, which 
he crumpled up and threw into the ash can. The 
analysis was plain. The patient had counted much 
on the friendly reception by his friend of some pro- 
posals set forth in the letter. In the dream his 
plans were laid to rest with the garbage. Here we 
have condensation of the ideas with two meager 
images and displacement of the affect on to the ash 
can. But these mechanisms were not present in the 
dream but occurred in the repression of its memory. 



DREAMS 103 

This, however, was not the whole story. The patient 
then interjected (what the analyst had failed to 
observe) that ash cans do not stand in front of 
houses in the part of Boston where his friend lived. 
This location of refuse made the patient think of his 
boyhood 's home and of an incident there. As a very 
small boy he found in an ash can, exactly so situated, 
a broken toy, covered with filth, of which he had been 
deprived as a matter of discipline some weeks be- 
fore. Elaboration of memories connected with this 
period gave the dream a deeper and more tragic 
meaning. He had looked to his father for sympathy 
he had never been shown and from this had devel- 
oped a yearning for friendship with men combined 
with hostility towards them which had gravely com- 
plicated his social and business life. Now no dream 
of that night was recalled which dramatized the 
infantile foundation of the finally remembered 
dream but that does not prove that it did not occur. 
In fact sufficiently rigorous effort during the period 
between deep sleep and fully awakened conscious- 
ness will usually reveal a number of dreams with 
pure infantile content. From this we may infer that 
the incomprehensibility of dreams is largely a 
matter of the selectivity of memory process by 
which continuity is established between the imagi- 
nary experiences of the night and the real ones of 
the day. It is more a matter of dream destruction 
than of " dream- work." 

What, then, is the nature of the thinking in dreams 
as they actually occur? By direct observation we 
can study types of thought in the psychoses and in 



104 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

analogous states artificially produced by hypnosis. 
These methods are truly objective. But mentation 
in normal sleep is never open to direct inspection 
and hence its laws must forever remain a matter of 
inference. Psychoanalysis may lead to invaluable 
and practical speculations but it can prove nothing. 
Our inferences may proceed from data derived at 
the two extremes of the period of sleep and they 
seem to lead to the same conclusion. When we com- 
pose ourselves for sleep we continue as a rule to 
think about the events or problems which have been 
occupying our attention throughout the day. Soon 
the connections between our thoughts begin to lose 
the logical sequence that is characteristic of diurnal, 
directed thinking. One may have a house in mind, 
then its bricks, their red color, a red flag, a bull, 
bull in a china shop, and so on. These are free 
associations. 

It seems that this is a natural way to think which 
we normally inhibit in the waking state because it 
distracts our attention away from consideration 
of the immediate problem before us. When our 
minds " wander," we indulge in free associations. 
Freud and Jung have studied this process and have 
concluded that the random sequence, which is so 
obvious, is random only so far as it is obvious, that 
is, that each element in the train of thought is the 
conscious representation of an underlying thought 
or a series of thoughts which actuate the process 
although the subject may be unaware of this at the 
time. For instance the associations given above 
would become explicable if one more were added — 



DREAMS 105 

equally fortuitous from the standpoint of conscious 
logic. If the series ended with "social revolution" 
one can see the sequence as representing the fancies 
of an anarchist. The house is the home of the cap- 
italist, which should be destroyed, then by gradual 
transitions come the ideas of the revolutionary flag 
and destruction of property. 

This is undirected thinking and has two further 
characteristics of importance for our present prob- 
lem. First, it occurs whenever one's supply of 
energy is low or its application is withdrawn from 
conscious effort (hence the "wandering" of thought 
in toxic delirium and idleness) ; second, it is closely 
associated with one's innate desires and interests 
(hence the intrusion of thoughts irrelevant to the 
immediate situation at times of emotional stress.) 
Since what we call the "unconscious" exhibits itself 
in mental disease and provides an explanation for 
mental operations of the emotional rather than of 
the intellectual order, it is surely safe to assume 
that unconscious thinking is of the free association 
type. It occurs as the first step in the change from 
diurnal to nocturnal thinking. 

The next stage is that of hypnagogic hallucina- 
tions. In this the ideas — house, bricks, flag, etc. — 
are not thought of as abstractions but are actually 
visualized. This phase is, normally, brief or at 
least seems to be. Soon we are fast asleep. Nat- 
urally it is not easy to detect this kind of mental 
process without abolishing it. We can hallucinate 
easily enough (as in dreams) but to know that we 
are hallucinating requires a coincident recognition 



106 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

of reality. When attention is turned from the 
visions to reality, the former are apt to cease. 
Hypnagogic hallucinations lead immediately over, 
therefore, into dreams. So soon as attention is 
given exclusively to the hallucinations, the environ- 
ment excites no interest in the dreamer unless it 
applies an unusually strong stimulus. We can pre- 
sume therefore that in dreams there is a continua- 
tion and enhancement of the free association 
process, each item of which is hallucinated. 

We have already discussed the final product of 
nocturnal activity as it is presented to us in remem- 
bered dreams and concluded that these were only 
distorted selections of an almost endless riot of 
hallucinations. In the period of half-waking of 
which we have spoken, when it is possible with effort 
to recall many dreams, it may be observed that one 
dream or dream event calls up another or merges 
into it. The process seems to be the same essen- 
tially as that of free association and sometimes the 
associated memories become vivid, they turn to 
visions and the observer becomes a dreamer once 
more. He has gone asleep. But there is a great 
difference between the content of the hypnagogic 
associations or hallucinations and the remembered 
dream visions. The former are more or less like 
ordinary conscious thoughts having to do with com- 
monplace objects and events and, moreover, the 
superficial sense connection between any two is more 
or less obvious. The latter, however, may be fan- 
tastic in extreme and the pictures succeed one 
another in an apparently lawless manner. This dif- 



DREAMS 107 

ference may give us some suggestion as to what had 
been happening during sleep. 

The study of free associations as practiced during 
psychoanalytic treatment may throw some light on 
this inquiry. We find that latent unconscious ideas 
are nearest to open expression when the transition 
from one association to another is superficially 
senseless. So long as the connection is logically 
sound the critique of rationality which we normally 
impose on our thinking is operating to inhibit emo- 
tionally urgent but irrelevant thought. Examples 
may clarify this. If John Doe associates to the word 
"yellow" by the words "ochre, paint, linseed oil, 
flax, spinning, weaving, tapestry, ' ' etc., etc., any one 
can see the connection between the ideas expressed 
and they are not necessarily bound together by any 
emotional complex. But if he jumped from 
"yellow" to "Mary," he alone can explain the con- 
nection, which turns out to be that there were inter- 
mediate associations of "yellow dress and yellow 
dress of Mary," which passed so quickly through 
his mind that he gave no attention to them. If nu- 
merous other words lead to similar short-circuiting 
to "Mary," we presume that he has a "Mary com- 
plex" (or more correctly a "Mary sentiment" since 
his interest in and knowledge of her is conscious), 
i. e., a group of ideas about Mary that are cemented 
together by his interest in her. The mention of any 
word which represents one of her characteristics or 
an event with which she was connected will serve to 
recall Mary to John Doe 's conscious attention. But 
he may also give a third type of association. The 



108 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

word "yellow" may lead abruptly to Philadelphia, 
a jump which neither he nor his auditor can explain. 
The analyst presumes some connection, unconscious 
if not conscious, between these two ideas. His inter- 
est in Philadelphia is inquired into. After a few 
perfectly reasonable opinions about that city are 
uttered, he begins to think of the Philadelphia dog 
show. He is not interested in dogs except nega- 
tively; he dislikes them. Asked to visualize the 
show, he thinks of a big mastiff. Then comes a 
memory long absent from consciousness. When a 
little boy, visiting in Philadelphia, he was terrified 
by a big yellow mastiff, the origin, apparently, of 
his hatred for dogs. This important discovery 
might never have been made had it not been for the 
psychoanalyst's attention being directed to an ex- 
tremely illogical association. 

Similar conclusions may be reached more easily 
and directly by examining the speech of many cases 
of dementia praecox. When their speech is "scat- 
tered," there are many illogical jumps, which the 
patients themselves will often explain on request, 
for it is an essential peculiarity of this disease that, 
both as to content and type of thinking, unconscious 
mental processes are allowed relatively free expres- 
sion. For instance a patient may say "He stuck his 
knife into the door and she had a baby." Ask him 
what knife is and he will say without hesitation 
"penis" and as unreservedly explain the door as 
"vagina." For him the unconscious interest in 
"penis" is as well expressed by the symbol as by 
the real word for it. The illogicality disappears so 



DREAMS 109 

soon as a translation can be made into the ideas 
which are symbolized. 

From such studies we assume that sequential 
ideas, logically unconnected, are the conscious rep- 
resentations of unconscious ideas, which they symbo- 
lize. The underlying ideas may be progressing in a 
perfectly orderly way. Ideas are united then in 
three ways — consciously (logically), unconsciously 
(illogically), or both. The more potent is the uncon- 
scious connection, the less logical does the sequence 
appear. . 

Applying this principle to what is gathered by 
retrospection of nocturnal experience, we can see 
that the series of visions we call dreams are hallu- 
cinated free associations that differ from those oc- 
curring during the induction of sleep merely in that 
unconscious links bind them more exclusively than 
in the hypnagogic state. When the thoughts sym- 
bolized in these visions are dragged into the critical 
light of common day, we find that they are usually 
of a type which is unfit for conscious entertainment, 
they are adaptable neither to real life nor to the 
moral code of the dreamer. They are the kind of 
ideas which are repressed into the unconscious. We 
thus have a second reason for presuming that the 
basic elements of dreams are unconscious : not only 
are the mental processes of an unconscious type but 
the ideas thus elaborated are also of the unconscious 
order. 

Now how does this view correspond to, or differ 
from, Freud's? Our formula — during sleep we 
think in hallucinated and symbolic free associations 



110 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

of ideas unconscious during the day refers to dream- 
ing rather than to the remembered dream. This 
dreaming process is covered in Freud's description 
only by the " primary processes of displacement and 
condensation" (the mechanism of symbol forma- 
tion) which he regards as the fundamental charac- 
teristics of the unconscious type of thinking. 1 We 
separate off from this "dreaming" the process by 
which specific dreams are perpetuated into waking 
consciousness. It is to this process, which begins 
before the dreamer is fully awake, that we would 
allocate the distortions of the original dream 
thoughts, distortions which make the dreams appear 
more reasonable (secondary elaboration) and which 
result from the elision of details painful to waking 
consciousness. The reason we confine " repression" 
or " censorship" to this phase only is that, with 
sufficient effort, a dreamer can often recall so much 
material, with so many telltale details, that the un- 
conscious thoughts are easily discerned in these 
"free associations." According to this outline, 
then, we need not consider such hypotheses as the 
formation of "fore-conscious" dream wishes, their 
"repression" and consequent activation of uncon- 
scious ideas, and so on. Dreaming, then, is simply 
unconscious thinking, the remembered dream a syn- 
copated, distorted fragment thereof. 

1 It is probably moTe accurate to say that condensation and dis- 
placement are results of the selectivity of the memory process by 
which fragments of dreams are perpetuated into waking conscious- 
ness. The ideas of the night are represented in the conscious memory 
only by a fragment (condensation), while the feeling tone of an 
elaborate dream is attached to the fragment (displacement of affect). 



DREAMS 111 

It will be noted that nothing has been said about 
the " day- remnants." It is questionable whether 
they have anything to do with dreaming as such. 
That experiences of the day are reflected in dreams 
we remember the next day is probably the most uni- 
versally known phenomenon of dreams. Every one 
who has given the most fleeting attention to them 
knows that. If our view that dreaming is simply 
unconscious thinking be a sound one, the content of 
the remembered dreams is dependent on the nature 
of the current unconscious thoughts. As was re- 
marked above it seems that the path from conscious- 
ness to unconsciousness is always open: to use an 
anthropomorphic figure of speech, it seems that the 
unconscious knows everything that consciousness 
does while the reverse is far from true. Conse- 
quently any experience during the day may have 
enough latent significance to divert unconscious 
thoughts into some specific channel. When sleep 
comes this train of thought is continued and is ex- 
pressed in countless symbols. On waking, as we 
have said, there is an effort to adjust the remem- 
bered dream with reality, so the formulation which 
contains elements repeating the day experiences is 
selected. 

For example let us take the case of the John Doe 
above. He goes to a circus and recalls next morn- 
ing that he dreamed, inter alia, of being in the 
Sahara Desert, chased by a lion. At the circus he 
saw, literally, thousands of things but he tells us 
that he was particularly impressed by the intre- 
pidity of the lion-tamer. Why did this affect him 



112 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

more than the work of the trained seals, the trapeze 
artists or the giants and dwarfs! Inquiry proceed- 
ing along the line of free associations reveals the 
fact that the lions were yellow, the sand in the 
desert was very yellow, the sunlight was yellow. In 
the dream he was as much afraid of being sunstruck 
as he was of the lion. Then comes the " yellow- 
Philadelphia-dog show" associations. The noctur- 
nal events begin to assume a new importance. We 
learn of an unconscious memory of a terrifying 
yellow beast. Both the dream and the interest in 
the lion-tamer, we may presume, were evidences of 
this memory being activated. The patient has vague 
memories of other dream experiences than with 
lions: a man was attacking him at one time, his 
father was criticizing a politician at another. All 
these clues when followed up (which may take days) 
show that the attack by the mastiff received its sig- 
nificance in turn from the lively fear of his father 
from which the patient suffered at this period of his 
childhood. The conclusion is finally reached that 
the lion was a mere incident in the long drama of the 
night's experiences. The circus stimulated the in- 
fantile complexes of filial inferiority; during the 
night one (of many) expressions for this pursuit 
by a lion and this was the only one to be sufficiently 
linked up with reality on waking to be clearly re- 
membered. During the night, then, the circus ex- 
perience had nothing whatever to do with the con- 
struction of any fore-conscious, or other, dream 
wish. Its only immediate connection is with the 
form in which one dream was recalled. Freud's 



DREAMS 113 

views might be sustained if the only activities of 
the night were those which were remembered next 
day. 

Theoretically, then, there is no a priori reason to 
expect an invariable appearance of day remnants 
in dreams. The unconscious may be working away 
at some train of thought started many days or even 
weeks before. And, indeed, experience shows this to 
be true. We not infrequently are given dreams by 
our patients from whom it is impossible to elicit any 
evidence of the day's experience having entered into 
the themes of the night's unconscious performances. 
When I say ' ' any evidence, ' ' I mean any direct and 
compelling evidence. During analysis the patient 
may refer to thoughts symbolically related to the 
themes in question but it seems simpler and more 
logical to relate these to the undercurrent of uncon- 
scious thought than to regard them as building 
blocks in the subsequent dream. 

Another factor which may swerve the unconscious 
thinking in a new direction is a stimulus received in 
the night. This may be a loud sound or one for 
which the dreamer is instinctively attuned (e. g., a 
mother for a baby's cry), a fly settling on the face, 
or a visceral disturbance, and so on. Any one of 
such stimuli may act in precisely the same way as a 
day experience in starting a train of unconscious 
thought and hence appear in some form in the re- 
membered dream. Some authors (the most recent is 
Lydiard Horton) have laboriously "proved" that 
dreams are simply expressions of bodily sensations. 
The experience, even of the layman, is so much at 



114 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

variance with this view that it seems unnecessary to 
discuss it. 

The problem of " diagnostic dreams" deserves 
comment at this point, however. How is it that one 
can dream of a somatic disturbance when it is too 
slight to be recognized consciously? Nicoll and 
Biddoch 1 have observed, for instance, that the 
patient with a complete lesion of the spinal cord 
does not dream of being paralyzed, which the man 
with a partial lesion does. This difference is notice- 
able before there is any return of conscious sensi- 
bility in the legs. It should be noted that the afferent 
impulse in all such cases does not appear in the 
dream as it would if it were consciously recognized. 
It is not registered in accurate terms but symboli- 
cally as a rule. This supports the view that the 
threshold for definite sensations and perceptions is 
higher than for indefinite ones ; that a stimulus may 
be strong enough to be registered unconsciously and 
appear improperly described in consciousness but 
cannot be specifically recognized by consciousness 
until it becomes stronger. This is, of course, noth- 
ing new. Twenty years ago hypnotists did a great 
deal of work on this subject — Boris Sidis probably 
performed the most exhaustive experiments — and 
showed that the range of sensibility (like that of 
memory and efferent impulses as well) was much 
wider unconsciously than consciously. It is to this 
that suggestion owes its effectiveness in therapy. 

The repeated failure in psychoanalytic treatment 
to resuscitate infantile memories the existence of 

1 Personal communication. 



DREAMS 115 

which is repeatedly indicated in dreams may be ex- 
plained by this principle. The memory is present 
unconsciously and may be potent there, but it does 
not exist in such an exact and detailed form as will 
enable it to enter consciousness. (It should be re- 
membered that children are several years old before 
they are capable of recalling voluntarily and in de- 
tail what happened even the day before. Yet their 
experiences obviously make impressions and pro- 
duce specific reactions. Consequently it is only to 
be expected that events from this period of life 
would be recalled as reactions rather than specific 
memories.) 

Another corollary has to do with waking stimuli. 
The threshold for external sensory stimuli is cer- 
tainly raised during sleep. It is possible that stimuli 
which would be well over the threshold in the wak- 
ing state may give direction to unconscious mental 
processes until the strength of the stimulus is such 
as to be accurately registered by the sleeper. It 
then crosses the threshold and becomes a waking 
stimulus. In this sense waking is simply the accu- 
rate recognition of external stimuli. The reverse 
would be true of falling asleep, which could be said 
to take place at that point where the impinging 
stimuli are not recognized clearly but distorted or 
neglected. 



PART II 

THE RELATIONSHIP OF PSYCHOAN- 
ALYSIS AND SUGGESTION 



CHAPTER XI 

DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 

If under the heading of suggestion one includes 
hypnotism, it is probably safe to affirm that only two 
fruitful methods have ever been devised either for 
the investigation or treatment of the psycho-neu- 
roses. These are suggestion and psychoanalysis. 
The practice of hypnotism was regarded as charla- 
tanism for close on to a century. It is now respect- 
able, however, and perhaps owes this reputation in 
part to psychoanalysis, since the latter has recently 
been the target for reactionary abuse and has, by 
contrast, forced the former on to the pedestal of 
conservatism. Both those who practice suggestion 
and those who are completely ignorant of its first 
principles unite in stating that psychoanalysts sim- 
ply use suggestion. One group imply by this that 
the matter need no longer be discussed and the other 
that Freud has stolen other folk's thunder and de- 
nied the crime. Curiously enough psychoanalysts 
have always resented this imputation as if it were 
an accusation and usually have disputed any rela- 
tionship of their art and science to the earlier one. 
Freud is an exception because he has always frankly 
admitted his debt to the hypnotic school and in his 
lectures admits suggestion as a definite factor in 

119 



120 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

psychoanalytic treatment. Nevertheless he restricts 
the relationship to this one point of contact and does 
so with emphasis. When there is so much smoke 
there must be fire. In most disputes the disputants 
talk about different things although they use the 
same terms. It may therefore be well to see just 
what suggestion is and what the theory of hypno- 
tism involves. 

In the simplest form of suggestion the subject 
accepts uncritically some thought from the operator 
and reacts to this idea automatically and consist- 
ently just as if it were a spontaneous mental process. 
Psychogenic symptoms may thus be abolished or 
unusual conduct initiated. Hypnosis is simply an 
exaggeration of this condition and frequently is so 
effective as to confine the subject's voluntary reac- 
tions to those directed by the hypnotist with a com- 
plete ignorance consciously of external stimuli or 
of spontaneous thoughts. 

A prerequisite for suggestion is the establishment 
of a type of emotional relationship between the 
operator and subject, which is often spoken of as 
rapport. In an excellent discussion of this subject 
Jones * has demonstrated with a wealth of quota- 
tion from the writings of hypnotists that the charac- 
teristics of this rapport are identical with those of 
love (before the latter has become conscious). From 
this he deduces, quite logically I think, that sugges- 
tion is based dynamically on unconscious sexual at- 
traction between the patient and physician. 

1 ' ' The Action of Suggestion in Psychotherapy, ' ' Journal of Ab- 
normal Psychology, December, 1910. 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 121 

An identical relationship, called ''transference," 
exists during the course of psychoanalytic treat- 
ment and, in fact, is regarded by Freud as a sine 
qua non of cure. He says quite frankly (p. 286) : 
"We . . . must realize that we have excluded hyp- 
nosis . . . only to rediscover suggestion in the shape 
of transference." From a dynamic standpoint, 
therefore, psychoanalysis and suggestion would 
seem to be the same. But this dynamic principle 
operates in many other situations: a salesman or 
politician may make use of it, so may a missionary 
or a lover. In fact it is nearly universal as the 
modus operandi of personal influence. On this ac- 
count no one would claim that these various types 
of human contact were identical. The method 
whereby the unconscious sexual rapprochement is 
manipulated must determine the differences be- 
tween politics and proselytizing or suggestion and 
psychoanalysis. The hypnotist uses it unwittingly, 
the psychoanalyst, according to theory, works with 
it consciously. Freud claims that the patient during 
analysis transfers to the person of the physician 
interests both friendly and inimical originating 
earlier in life and closely related with the conflicts 
underlying the symptoms; that these conflicts can 
thereby be brought into the light of full conscious- 
ness; and that, if this " transference" can be so 
handled as to exclude hostile elements, the positive 
attachment to the analyst will lead to a rearrange- 
ment of unconscious forces abolishing symptoms for 
which constructive substitutes are added (Lectures, 
pp. 383-5). Manipulation of rapport is thus made 



122 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the core of psychoanalytic treatment. Its utiliza- 
tion without manipulation is the essence of sugges- 
tion. 

The critics urge, however, that the actual condi- 
tions of a psychoanalysis favor suggestion in the 
narrow and accurate sense of the term. They say 
the patient is convinced that if he recalls enough of 
his past and talks enough about sexuality, he will 
lose his symptoms and that this belief actually does 
cause such a result. An issue of fact is thus raised. 
What are the phenomena 1 ? Unquestionably patients 
do find relief, particularly at the beginning of an 
analysis, simply from the conviction that the treat- 
ment is potent to charm away their symptoms. 
This should rightly be termed suggestive influence 
and psychoanalysts have no hesitancy in so naming 
it. But permanent cure, they claim, does not consist 
in loss of symptoms alone but in such a reorganiza- 
tion of the patient's mental life as to make the un- 
conscious forces, which motivated; the symptoms, 
actually productive of happiness and efficiency. In 
other words, cure rests not on an abolition of symp- 
toms such as suggestion may affect, but on a redirec- 
tion of unconscious strivings which suggestion does 
not attempt to produce and which, in fact, occurs 
spontaneously. This is the ideal. In practice it is 
probable that with the host of incompetents who 
advertise "psychoanalysis" as their mode of treat- 
ment there are many patients who receive under this 
title nothing but suggestion — and clumsy suggestion 
at that. 

So much for the dynamics of suggestion and psy- 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 123 

choanalysis. The two technics are used, however, 
as methods of investigation. How are the two 
methods related as to efficacy and the psychological 
mechanisms involved? The general conclusions as 
to the mechanism of suggestion worked out by the 
hypnotic school years ago may be stated roughly as 
follows. The higher functions of the nervous sys- 
tem (including "mental" operations) are more ex- 
tensive than realized by the subject. At the same 
time his behavior at any given moment is deter- 
mined by the thoughts of which he is conscious. 
Consciousness brings into focus, with functioning 
activity, certain reactions of the nervous system. 
These reactions extend all the way from the afferent 
and efferent impulses of the visceral nerves which 
are only partially under psychic control, up to the 
highest discriminative capacities of intelligence and 
memory. The function of consciousness may be 
likened to that of a spot-light. The attention of the 
audience is directed mainly to what is seen under 
the glare of this light and the observers react chiefly 
to the action there depicted. They are dimly aware 
of other actors on the stage but are relatively indif- 
ferent to them, whereas they are in total ignorance 
of what is occurring off the stage in the wings and 
dressing rooms. They know the actors appear from 
somewhere off the stage but that is all. The spot- 
light corresponds to full consciousness, its dim re- 
flected light over the rest of the stage to " fringes of 
consciousness" or Freud's "fore-consciousness." 
The "unconscious" is the place where the actors 
come from. The "co-conscious" of Prince is the 



124 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

prompter or director just off the stage, unseen but 
actively at work. Under normal conditions the spot- 
light is shifted by the subject himself; under hypno- 
sis the operator takes control of it. He brings into 
functional activity bodily reactions, memories and 
ideas according to his will rather than the will of 
the subject. 

If this view be correct — and there is a wealth of 
evidence in favor of it — suggestion does not manu- 
facture anything but simply brings material into 
consciousness that might normally never appear 
there. For instance, no hypnotist can make the sub- 
ject have an hallucination of an animal he has never 
seen and knows nothing of. He may hallucinate a 
lion but not an amphioxus. Supposing a command 
is given for the subject to see an amphioxus; no 
hallucination appears. The hypnotist must say "It 
looks something like an earthworm and something 
like a fish." The subject may then see a long, cylin- 
drical, yellowish body with small fins. This is not 
an amphioxus, but a combination of fish and worm 
features present in the memory of the subject. By 
no chance could an hallucination appear of what an 
amphioxus looks like unless the subject be so mi- 
nutely instructed as to the anatomy of this animal as 
to have an independent knowledge of it just like his 
knowledge of the lion. How then are we to charac- 
terize the vision of the worm-fish which he does 
have? It is merely a visualization of two ideas 
neither of which originates from the suggestion. 
Let us suppose the subject reacts with disgust to 
this hallucination. It will be found that he has nor- 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 125 

mally a disgust for worms or for fish and the affec- 
tive reaction is a response to the worm or fish idea. 
In other words, no new entity has been produced; 
reactions latent in the individual have simply been 
stimulated. 

The situation with memories is more complicated. 
So far as single, simple concepts are concerned, no 
memory of such can be manufactured out of nothing. 
The hypnotist cannot make the subject remember 
seeing an amphioxus any more than he can call forth 
an hallucination of it. But most of our memories 
are of complicated situations, the elements of which 
are, individually, well known to us. For instance, 
I have been to Washington and know well the de- 
tails of the journey thither and of the buildings 
there. But I was not there yesterday. Similarly 
I know Mr. X well and dislike him. Under hypnosis 
I might be told that I had just been to Washington, 
had met X there and had quarreled with him. I 
might believe all this and feel upset about the whole 
incident, which had in reality never occurred. It 
would probably be difficult to make this false mem- 
ory persist after the seance, for it would conflict too 
directly with my actual memories of what I did 
yesterday. The greatest permanent effect the sug- 
gestion might have would be to change my emotional 
attitude towards Washington. Although I had pre- 
viously liked the city I might now feel disinclined to 
visit it again. 

What has happened in this case ? Under hypnosis 
definite memories have not been manufactured out 
of whole cloth but merely combined and the most 



126 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

important element (from a psych opathological stand- 
point), the emotional reaction, has also not been 
created but simply evoked in a false association. 
During the seance, when consciousness is altered, 
this false association is in awareness and the emo- 
tional reaction is correctly attached to X not to 
"Washington. Thereafter, however, the false mem- 
ory is perpetuated unconsciously, while consciously 
a displaced affect appears, i.e., a symptom. The 
hypnotist did not manufacture memory of either 
Washington or Mr. X, he merely combined them, 
caused repression of the memory of what I actually 
did yesterday and left me with a symptom. From 
a practical standpoint this may be a serious matter, 
as for instance when a witness with manifest sin- 
cerity gives false testimony in court. But from a 
theoretic standpoint the work of the hypnotist is 
superficial, since he has not produced any new 
emotional reaction in the unconscious. He has only 
devised a new way of eliciting a reaction already 
present. Composite memories may therefore be dis- 
torted by suggested amnesia and false elaboration 
of details, which as elements remain unaltered. 
Fundamentally nothing has been manufactured. 

As a method of research, therefore, hypnotism is 
a method of selection of ideas and reactions already 
present, although perhaps latent, in the mind of the 
subject. If he could do more than this the power of 
the hypnotist would be colossal. He would be able 
to produce or cure insanity (not to mention psycho- 
neurosis), manufacture criminals or raise the sub- 
ject to his own level of intelligence. But he can only 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 127 

work with the mental machine as it already exists. 
He cannot fundamentally alter it. The spot-light is 
turned by the hypnotist not merely on the stage but 
off into the wings. 

How does this compare with the procedure of 
psychoanalysis? The patient is urged to abrogate 
all conscious guidance of his thoughts, to indulge in 
' ' free ' ' associations. According to theory, when this 
is done, the spot-light does not wander lawlessly 
over the stage but fore-conscious and unconscious 
thoughts are spontaneously illuminated as it were. 
A memory, wish or impulse that can be expressed in 
various disguises, presents itself with less and less 
disguise until it is finally revealed in its nakedness. 
In practice we see many examples of this; but we 
also find that there is a resistance creeping in, the 
train of thought does not go on relentlessly, the 
patient begins to operate the spot-light himself as 
he does in his normal waking life. The analyst 
brings him back to the point where he thinks the 
divergence occurred, and insists on his letting his 
thoughts wander from that point again. 

For instance one incident in a dream may be that 
the dreamer strikes a man with a stick. The pa- 
tient's associations may be initiated into two quite 
different channels. If I ask him what the striking 
makes him think of and keep him associating to the 
idea of injury, he will think of antagonisms and mur- 
derous impulses. Then when we examine the ap- 
pearance of the victim, details of his costume, etc., 
lead to associating thoughts of some enemy. But I 
might have started him off on the stick, the charac- 



128 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

teristics of which induce thoughts of a penis. The 
dream incident may therefore be interpreted as a 
sadistic homosexual symbolization or as an expres- 
sion of a homicidal impulse or as an ambivalent 
combination of the two. As a matter of fact the con- 
text of this incident in an elaborated dream will 
usually suggest to me that the striking or the stick 
is the important element. This guidance occurs 
constantly during every psychoanalytic seance and 
every time it is done the analyst is directing the 
spot-light be it only for a moment to light up a path 
which the patient himself follows. This selection is 
analogous to, if not identical with, that of the sug- 
gestion technique. It differs only in its extent. The 
hypnotist never relinquishes control, whereas the 
analyst aims constantly at doing so. 

But whenever the patient is given a specific stimu- 
lus for free association some selection is exercised. 
With some patients such guidance is constantly 
necessary and with them the analyst is apt to feel 
(if he have a scientific conscience) that he is prac- 
ticing an art rather than a science or that at best he 
is forcing the patient to prove a preconceived theory 
rather than making independent discoveries. From 
a scientific standpoint, therefore, there is great 
danger of the free association method being used in 
the service of a theory rather than as a means of 
research. Nor does this guidance of the patient's 
thoughts end with control of allegedly free associa- 
tions. Probably every psychoanalyst has noticed 
how the patient may night after night dream of the 
same theme, constantly elaborating it. The way in 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 129 

which this may occur is discussed in the previous 
chapter. An experience of the day stimulates an 
unconscious train of thought which continues on into 
the night and is then elaborated in varying settings 
of dream imagery. The original day thought may 
be selected by the analyst from a number of themes 
presented in an earlier dream. The analyst picks 
out one part of a dream for intensive examination. 
He interprets it to the patient, thus stimulating the 
unconscious complexes appertaining to this theme. 
The next night the theme is elaborated, the analy- 
sis again is directed to this topic and so on. An 
example of this guidance may make the point 
clearer. 

A young man was being analyzed for severe stut- 
tering. On a Monday he brought a dream with a 
number of acts. First there is a battleship coming 
to dock, the sailors are met by friends, one of them 
is much troubled on meeting his fiancee by thoughts 
of his sexual irregularities. Next the patient wants 
to telephone to his chum but cannot on account of his 
speech. Then a girl accuses the patient of being 
effeminate and of speaking effeminately. He wel- 
comes the criticism. The girl changes into his chum 
and they buy candy together. This is followed by a 
scene in which the patient's brother undertakes the 
direction of the patient 's fiancee in an offensive way. 
Finally the patient buys a cigarette out of which 
most of the tobacco falls before he can light it. 
Asked to associate to the idea of sexual irregularity 
in a sailor, the patient soon began to talk about 
homosexuality. Communication with his chum led 



130 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to homosexuality also. The logical connections of 
these dreams with the charge of effeminacy were 
pointed out and the suggestion made that the embar- 
rassment which was an integral feature of his stam- 
mering might be connected with unconscious homo- 
sexuality. The other acts of the dream were not 
analyzed. But we can imagine that a jealousy com- 
plex might have been ventilated, if the scene where 
his brother directed his fiancee had been discussed 
or masturbation ideas might have emerged from 
analysis of the cigarette episode. Both of these, it 
happened, were important problems for the patient 
but they were deliberately neglected by the ana- 
lyst, who selected one theme for exclusive consid- 
eration. 

Tuesday's dream was not analyzed, but it looked 
like a portrayal symbolically of homosexual rela- 
tionships. Some experiments were attempted that 
day in getting the patient to whisper. It was found 
that he could whisper without hesitation so long as 
his attention was directed to the whispering but that 
when he attended to the ideas expressed he at once 
began to use his vocal cords again with consequent 
stuttering. He was told that this phenomenon 
probably explained his inability to profit by any 
method of speech reeducation. A definite symptom 
was a stubborn tendency to speak in only one way — 
a way which always was accompanied with embar- 
rassment. 

Wednesday's dream began with a scene in which 
a young man is making a speech and gets stuck. 
The audience thinks he is contemplating some nefa- 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 131 

rious scheme and nearly mobs him. This dream 
brought out an idea of guilt and fear of punishment 
in connection with the speech trouble. Other dreams 
of the night were neglected. 

Thursday's dream came as a climax to the homo- 
sexual series. First he is talking to his chum and 
hesitating a great deal ; his chum suggests words to 
him and this only makes his speech worse. After 
some irrelevant scenes he and a friend are trying to 
light their pipes, his pulls badly and it is difficult 
to light it. Then suddenly, "I had a penis in my 
mouth. It was all so disgusting. My whole mouth 
sort of closed on it half involuntarily" (precisely 
the behavior of his mouth when stuttering). 

This last dream gives first indirectly, then directly, 
a most specific explanation of the speech trouble in 
terms of a particular perversion. This detail was 
not suggested to the patient by the analyst we may 
be reasonably sure, because it was never in the lat- 
ter 's mind, consciously at least. The mechanism of 
suggestion was employed, however, in focusing the 
patient's attention consciously on to the theme of 
homosexuality and this led to an unconscious pre- 
occupation with, and a nocturnal elaboration of, this 
theme. Nothing was put into the patient's mind but 
a definite selection was made. 

How does this affect the reliability of psycho- 
analytic procedure as a method of investigation? 
If the patient had recovered after this analysis the 
conclusion would be that his stuttering was fellato- 
ristic in origin. Yet there is much evidence in the 
case to show that shame about masturbation and 



132 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sexual curiosity in childhood (symptoms began at 
the age of four) also contributed. "When sufficient 
unconscious energy is deflected from outlet via 
symptoms to outlet in constructive activities recov- 
ery takes place. It is just conceivable that analysis 
of this patient simply as an unconscious homosexual 
with a ferreting out of all the factors behind the in- 
version would result in cure. But another analyst 
might have a preconception in favor of masturbation 
as the essential cause. He then would analyze the 
onanistic features of his patient's dreams and the 
latter would promptly begin to dream preponder- 
antly along this line. Neither puts anything into the 
patient's mind and each finds only one dominant 
theme. 

Freud makes this admission: "Any one who has 
himself performed a psychoanalysis has been able 
to convince himself innumerable times that it is im- 
possible thus to suggest anything to the patient. 
There is no difficulty, of course, in making the pa- 
tient a disciple of any one theory, and thus causing 
him to share the possible error of the physician." 
Every one knows that preconceptions determine ob- 
servations very largely in all scientific work. We 
see what we are on the look-out for and are blind to 
the unexpected. In psychoanalysis, however, this 
danger is augmented by the plasticity of the material 
which is so largely produced in accordance with the 
theory of the analyst. This is the reason why one 
analyst can say: "Every neurosis has in it a big 
penis" and have his dictum disputed by another 
who finds identification with the mother back of 



DIFFERENCES OF TECHNIQUE 133 

everything. 1 Both are probably right in their in- 
clusions and wrong in their exclusions. With this 
condition of affairs it seems extraordinary that 
Freud should, during the years when he was making 
his discoveries, have kept his eyes so vigilantly open 
for new factors and new unconscious phenomena 
and that his general conclusions as to the content 
of the unconscious should be so accurately confirmed 
by examination of the insane who do not talk or 
dream to order. 

1 l can cite from my own practice a striking example of how ma- 
terial often considered to be fundamental may be neglected without 
affecting the success of the treatment. I once analyzed a man who 
had led a homosexual career for over ten years and wished to cure 
himself of it. During the analysis I never asked him nor did he have 
occasion to tell me whether he was an active or passive homosexual 
or what the nature of his actual practices had been. Throughout 
attention was directed to his homosexuality as a relationship not as 
an act. The analysis was speedy and effectual. He has been married 
for some years, is happy, more efficient than ever before, and is 
aware of homosexuality only as a vague unreal dream of the past. 



CHAPTER XII 

COMPARISON OF MATERIAL GATHERED BY HYPNOSIS, 

PSYCHOANALYSIS AND OBSERVATION OF 

THE PSYCHOSES 

One of the most signal triumphs of hypnotism 
was its demonstration of the recoverability of memo- 
ries long absent from consciousness. When many 
symptoms (as in hysteria) were found to be drama- 
tizations of some element in these memories, hypno- 
tism became a method of investigating the psycho- 
genesis of symptoms that offered much promise for 
the development of psychological medicine. Since 
then two other methods have come into use : the psy- 
choanalytic method of free association and the pains- 
taking observation and correlation of the utterances 
and behavior of the insane. It may be well to dis- 
cuss the relative merits of these three methods. 

Under hypnosis an artificial state is produced in 
which the patient is relatively unaware of the envi- 
ronment in general but is extremely sensitive to the 
dictates of the hypnotist. With the loss of attention 
to the environment there is a proportionate weaken- 
ing of resistance to appearance in consciousness of 
ideas which are unconscious. Perhaps it would be 
better to say that an altered consciousness appears 
into which the normally repressed ideas may come. 

134 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 135 

In this state the "spot-light" is operated by the 
hypnotist and its range depends on the depth of the 
hypnosis induced. An exception occurs where a 
secondary personality makes its appearance under 
hypnosis. This personality then has its own system 
of acceptable and tabooed thoughts ; but this excep- 
tion need not be considered now. Theoretically, the 
determination of all psychoneurotic symptoms 
should be discoverable, provided only sufficient depth 
of hypnosis be secured. Practically, however, these 
results are attained, as a rule, only in patients with 
a natural tendency to dissociation of consciousness 
such as is observed in hysteria and allied states. 
Nevertheless an enormous amount has been learned 
in this way. A patient, for instance, explains under 
hypnosis that at the time a certain symptom occurs 
a definite thought is present, A banal example would 
be some retraction or twisting of the head, which is 
an accompaniment of a thought of being struck, the 
patient at the time being unaware of this thought. 
Such ideas that are active, although not conscious, 
Morton Prince has aptly termed "co-conscious." 
When co-conscious thoughts are demonstrated by 
hypnosis the evidence is so direct and compelling 
that there seems little doubt that hypnotism offers 
the best method of studying the immediate mech- 
anism of such discrete and episodic symptoms as 
may be investigated separately. In no other field of 
psychopathology do we meet with such satisfying 
exactness and precision as in these investigations. 
The recent work of Morton Prince belongs to this 
order. 



136 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

Many hypnotists have published invaluable ma- 
terial of this order but only one, Morton Prince, has 
seriously attempted a broadening of the field of in- 
vestigation. Forel and Janet, for instance, are con- 
tent to explain the symptoms of such a disease as 
hysteria and admit that the disease itself, that is the 
tendency to develop such symptoms, is the product 
of some constitutional defect which cannot be fur- 
ther elucidated. Prince has tried to answer the 
question, Why the co-conscious thought? He finds 
that specific ideas have emotional and dynamic value 
in virtue of their " settings." That is^ experiences 
dating often from childhood give certain ideas or 
impulses peculiar power. For instance a religious 
education may endow the ideas "priest" or 
"church" with great affective power or devotional 
exercises may become compelling. If two ideas, 
similarly powerful as a result of important settings 
conflict, one of them is repressed, becomes uncon- 
scious, may be activated as a co-conscious thought 
and thus produce a symptom. He finally concludes 
that all the conflicts are conflicts of instincts, the 
more powerful ones being dominant as a result of 
individual experience. 

It will be seen that, although the terms used are 
quite different, these conclusions are generalizations 
which include Freud's fundamental claims. For in- 
stance, let us consider the psychoanalytic theory of 
a compulsive idea. In childhood an individual de- 
velops as a result of various circumstances (the 
setting) a strong cruelty impulse which tends to be 
directed towards loved ones — sadism in other words. 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 137 

At the same time, or shortly thereafter, ethical 
standards and feelings of sympathy are developed. 
These come into conflict and the sadistic impulses 
are repressed becoming unconscious. In later life 
when some disturbance occurs in the emotional life 
of the patient, the sadism is activated and co- 
conscious sadistic thoughts develop. These appear 
partially or symbolically in consciousness as the 
compulsive thoughts. Fundamentally, therefore, 
Freud -s and Prince 's theories are alike but with one 
great difference. Prince finds no specific instincts 
always at work and Freud does. The latter admits 
many factors as contributory but insists that sexual 
instincts are always dominant. The former does not 
deny that sex is often potent but denies its univer- 
sality. Which is right? 

So far as the psychoneuroses are concerned the 
question cannot be answered empirically. So far as 
I know no well trained psychoanalyst has ever taken 
up hypnotic researches as thoroughly as Prince has 
done, nor has he nor has any of his colleagues used 
the psychoanalytic approach with understanding, 
sincerity and zeal. Comparative results have not 
then been secured. The therapeutic proof is futile. 
Too many factors enter into cure to make statistics 
of any value whatever. If this test were to be al- 
lowed, we should also have to discuss the theories of 
Christian Science and the maunderings of many 
quacks as scientific hypotheses. We are conse- 
quently forced to argue a priori. 

It by no means holds that, because under hypnosis 
a patient may be able to account for a symptom 



138 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

directly and adequately, he can answer a question 
cogently as to the background or history of the idea 
which the symptom represents. In the first instance 
a level of consciousness is tapped that has knowledge 
of the existence at a given moment of a certain 
thought. But this consciousness would have to have 
a great knowledge of psychology to answer the sec- 
ond question, which is not a demand for a specific 
fact but for an interpretation of facts. The various 
levels of consciousness made accessible by hypnosis 
can produce memories of definite events but they are 
no more capable of interpreting those facts than is 
normal waking consciousness — perhaps less. One 
may ask a carpenter why he cuts a board a certain 
length and he can give a satisfactory answer with- 
out hesitation. It is a shelf for a cupboard he is 
making for his wife. But ask him why he married 
this woman and he can only tell you of certain 
events that seem to him to have shaped his career. 
His choice of memories and his interpretation of 
them might fail to satisfy a student of human mo- 
tives. The latter will ask more questions, elicit more 
facts, and put them all together in making up his 
judgment as to what were the really important in- 
fluences in attracting him to one particular woman. 
Now this carpenter knows many things, the price of 
lumber, the strength of oak and what team won the 
World Series in 1905. But his psychological in- 
quisitor does not ask him such questions; he asks 
only for such information as he expects may throw 
light on the marriage problem. In other words he 
has some hypotheses, to prove or disprove which he 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 139 

seeks facts. When he exhausts the supply of infor- 
mation bearing on these hypotheses he ceases to ask 
questions. 

And so it is with the psychopathologist who seeks 
to gain information about the fundamentals of the 
life of a hypnotized patient. The examiner's ques- 
tions are dictated by a hypothesis. If he thinks one 
instinct is at work he will exhaust that line of in- 
vestigation ; if he turns his attention to another in- 
stinct he will gain evidence of the power of that in- 
stinct, and so on. One can therefore see that an 
important instinct might be eliminated from the list 
without its absence being betrayed by a paucity of 
material. The only control on complete diffuseness 
is some knowledge of the nature of the patient's 
difficulties, which is gained from the patient's con- 
scious history. For instance, if a patient has no 
anxiety and gives no history of it in the past, 
the hypnotist will not be much interested in all 
the incidents, which might be brought to light 
under hypnosis, that concern situations of danger. 
But this control comes from knowledge derived out- 
side the seance. The patient may show emotional 
reactions while hypnotized that suggest some im- 
portance to the memories excited at the moment. 
But it is characteristic of the hypnotic state that 
when older, deeper memories — the ones important 
for the final settings and fundamental conflicts — are 
elicited the dissociation of consciousness is apt to 
be more profound and emotional reactions weak or 
absent. The results of hypnotic investigation are 
therefore apt to lead to diffuseness or to have only 



140 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

such specificity as exists in the mind of the inquirer 
before hypnotic examination begins. 

The conditions under which psychoanalytic inves- 
tigations are made present a contrast to those of the 
hypnotic seance. In the latter a modification of con- 
sciousness is deliberately induced while in the former 
this is avoided. In fact the free association tech- 
nique aims at the extension of full consciousness, 
i.e., of awareness, to cover mental operations previ- 
ously unconscious. The maintenance or modifica- 
tion of consciousness involves two differences in the 
nature and value of the material recovered: when 
normal consciousness is preserved the search for 
pathogenic ideas is tedious and follows a tortuous 
path, normal emotional reactions being maintained, 
while with the altered consciousness of hypnosis the 
route is direct and the emotional reaction is re- 
duced. A patient, let us say, has an hysterical 
ptosis. Under hypnosis this symptom is specific- 
ally explained as an effort to shut out the memory 
of some particular sight. The psychoanalyst asks 
the patient what he would rather not see and a good 
many unpleasant visual memories are produced by 
free association. Among these — probably as the last 
association — the patient recalls the incident which 
would be recounted at once under hypnosis. If this 
memory appears accompanied by a marked emo- 
tional reaction and if the ptosis then disappears, the 
analyst feels sure that the symptom was the expres- 
sion in consciousness of the painful memory. This 
situation is, then, analogous to the hypnotic one be- 
cause in both some specific relationship between un- 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 141 

conscious idea and symptom is indicated. But, more 
often, the emotional reaction is not marked and the 
symptom does not disappear so dramatically. It 
disappears only when other abnormal reactions — of 
mood and behavior — show signs of alteration, in 
other words when the neurosis as a whole is begin- 
ning to yield. Usually we find that analysis re- 
moves a symptom suddenly only when the symptom 
is of recent origin. As has been explained, a symp- 
tom of long standing has become the vehicle for ex- 
pression of a number of complexes. In this case the 
psychoanalyst, when cure is complete, cannot state 
with definiteness just what the specific determination 
of the symptom was. The hypnotist, on the other 
hand, can always do this, theoretically at least. 
He can do so because the patient, during a condi- 
tion of altered consciousness, has explained it 
directly. 

I once had an opportunity of comparing the ma- 
terial recovered during hypnosis and by free associa- 
tion. The patient was an unmarried woman thirty- 
eight years old with complicated symptoms, which 
eventually were found to have hysteric mechanisms. 
From her normal conscious life were dissociated all 
the ordinary pleasures, she dressed with excessive 
plainness, had a severe, unsympathetic expression 
and seemed to have no interest in anything aesthetic 
or "human." After demonstrating spontaneously a 
capacity for development of somnambulism when 
free associations led to memories of her early child- 
hood, she was hypnotized at times and states of deep 
somnambulism were thus artificially induced. In 



142 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

these she accounted for her symptoms directly and 
without the slightest hesitation by telling of her 
co-conscious thoughts. She also explained her ab- 
normality by reference to another person, " Helen 
Gray, ' ' who had the thoughts which were expressed 
in symptoms. This Helen Gray was fond of beauti- 
ful things, loved social activities, was herself beau- 
tiful and had six children. But she hated routine 
and conventionality. The name she explained, with- 
out hesitation, was derived from Helen of Troy and 
a gray shawl belonging to her mother, which she 
greatly coveted as a child. But as to the origin of 
this submerged, secondary personality she could 
tell nothing in hypnosis. She just "was." When 
awakened the patient was amnesic for these 
revelations. 

The day after one of these seances, she was ex- 
amined by the free association method. She told of 
playing, when a little girl, that she was a maiden 
with beautiful hair, whom a fairy prince would res- 
cue and marry and that these fantasies persisted on 
into her dreams. The following questions and an- 
swers show how the examination proceeded. 

Q. What name did you give the girl? 

A. I didn't name her; she was myself. 

Q. What name comes to your mind when you think of her? 

A. (Long pause.) She was me — I didn't name her. 

Q. Try hard to remember! 

A. (With a whining voice.) I didn't name her. She was 
myself. I had another name only once when I ran away from 
home — so they wouldn't find me. (At the age of twenty-one.) 

Q. Do you remember that name? 

A. I wrote it on a hotel register. My uncle came for me and 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 143 

he knew my writing. They told me they would put me in prison 
for doing that. 

Q. Guess at the name! 

A. Helen Gray but I'm not sure. I may not be right at all. 

Q. Where did you get the name? 

A. I don't know. 

Q. What does "Helen" make you think of? 

A. I don't know. Anybody named Helen — Helen of Troy — 
a beautiful woman, wasn't she? Did they take her prisoner? 

Q. What does "Gray" make you think of? 

A. Thomas Grey — the "Elegy." But that is G-r-e-y and this 
is G-r-a-y, gray hair — a color — my grandmother has gray hair — 
gray dress — I wear gray dresses, I thought my mother had a gray 
shawl, I asked my grandmother but she didn't know. (The 
patient's mother died when the patient was three years of age.) 

Q. Was Helen Gray the name of the play child? 

A. I think it was me but it may not have been, I mean it 
may have had another name — I like my name all right. 

Q. Did Helen Gray have any children? 

A. I don't remember about her children. 

Q. See if you can remember! 

A. No, I don't think she did. That's all I remember about 
Helen Gray. That's all there was. You see I just had that name 
because I went away from home. 

In these consciously produced remarks one finds 
nearly all the data recovered under hypnosis, but 
without any evidence of relationship to symptoms 
being given directly and everything is expressed 
dubiously. On the other hand the free associations 
give room for conjecture as to the origin of " Helen 
Gray" in the maiden of childish daydreams, whereas 
the material recovered under hypnosis gives no clue 
to this at all. Conjecture is necessary for the inter- 
pretation of this free association material but the 
material extends over a wider field. 



144 PROBLEMS OP DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

It is when the hypnotist begins to investigate the 
background of the symptom that his technique is apt 
to fail. This is something that the patient does not 
know, enquiries are diffuse and the investigator is 
forced to choose from the data recovered those which 
he thinks are most likely to have furnished the ' ' set- 
ting." This selection, it is true, is also exercised by 
the psychoanalyst, but he is aided tremendously by 
the emotional reaction of the patient, which has re- 
mained normal. The more deeply-lying is any un- 
conscious complex, the greater is the resistance to 
its appearance in consciousness. This resistance is 
expressed by illogical blocking in the patient's free 
associations and by the emotional reaction accom- 
panying the recital of recovered memories. The pa- 
tient is, then, constantly telling the psychoanalyst in 
an indirect manner what is important and what is 
not. We can therefore conclude that where one 
method is weak the other is strong. Hypnotism 
gives us the most direct approach to the study of 
the immediate determination of symptoms, while 
psychoanalysis reveals the important elements in the 
patient's past, which have rendered his emotional 
life abnormal and led to the establishment of a neu- 
rotic reaction. 

At the same time the psychoanalyst is using ma- 
terial which does not interest the hypnotist so 
keenly. A different order of psychic material is in- 
vestigated when dreams are studied. From the 
standpoint of research this material presents both 
advantages and dangers. No one who has given any 
degree of attention to dreams from the psycho- 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 145 

analytic standpoint remains unconvinced that from 
them may be learned a great deal about current un- 
conscious thoughts. The unconscious significance of 
the events of the day is revealed by the elaboration 
of what they suggest in the drama of the night. As- 
sociations from data presented in the dreams almost 
always hark back at once to experiences and fan- 
tasies of the far past. The existence of actively 
functioning thoughts different from those of the 
waking hours is thus indicated, but,, since there is 
often a large element of selection in the analytic 
process, one can never say that the resuscitated 
memories are the only ones of importance. All that 
is explicitly demonstrated is the importance of cer- 
tain unconscious processes during the period when 
the dream occurs. It is not unthinkable that there is 
a retroactive emphasis laid on the experiences or 
thoughts which are recalled during analysis. Very 
often, too, the latent content of the remembered 
dream is so complicated by its distortion into a set- 
ting assimilable with waking consciousness that se- 
lection on a large scale is inevitable and this selec- 
tion can only be justified by repeated confirmation 
from many analyses. Under these last circum- 
stances the evidential value of the material gath- 
ered from the analysis of any single dream is slight. 
These criticisms have little weight when directed 
against the third method of investigating psycho- 
pathological phenomena, namely the study of the 
abnormal mental processes of the insane as revealed 
in delusions, hallucinations and anomalies of be- 
havior. A convenient term under which these data 



146 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

may be subsumed is the word " trend." This is a 
contraction for " trend of false ideas," a term origi- 
nating, I believe, at the Psychiatric Institute, New 
York, and now becoming popular in America among 
psychopathologists engaged in institutional work. 
"When we speak of a patient's " trend," we refer to 
the general story that runs through and logically 
connects and correlates his utterances and conduct. 
With the exception of paranoics and some cases of 
paranoid states, the patients are not able to give any 
connected account of their delusions, they are usu- 
ally like dreamers who know what the dream of the 
moment is but not that which has gone before. In 
most cases of dementia praecox and manic-depressive 
insanity false ideas and perceptions occur hap- 
hazard, often kaleidoscopically. If careful record be 
taken of consecutive verbal productions, manic flight 
of ideas and the "scattered" speech of dementia 
praecox can both be seen really to be free associa- 
tions. In scattered speech a succession of symboli- 
zations of the same latent idea may occur without 
the patient making any effort to connect the con- 
secutive statements logically and the actual meaning 
of the statements may be widely at variance, which 
is what makes the speech " scattered" and senseless. 
A psychoneurotic giving a series of free associations 
to the word "stick" may produce a series of ideas 
between which a logical connection is discernible. 
The dementia praecox patient, however, is apt to go 
directly to the latent phallic idea, in fact he is apt 
to make such a statement as "stick is a penis." His 
regard for reality is so slight that he can use the 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 147 

words "stick" or "penis" or "sword" interchange- 
ably. In this way delusions appear or, if the 
thoughts be sufficiently vivid they are hallucinated. 
Such a patient may be said to be living in a purely 
fantastic world. More often this type of thinking 
occurs episodically but delusions appearing in the 
episode persist into the intervals of saner thought, 
like dreams which still have an aura of reality on 
awakening. The false ideas of manic-depressive 
insanity are produced, apparently, in the same man- 
ner, but are often even more evanescent than the 
delusions of dementia praecox. 

If one is to understand the rationale of the trend, 
record must be made with full detail of as much of 
the psychotic productions as possible. We then have 
a disconnected mass of fantastic thoughts much like 
the separate pieces of a puzzle picture. They can 
be similarly pieced together and then an extraor- 
dinary result is obtained. Not only is a connected 
story built up but each piece provides a pertinent 
detail. The central theme, or plot, of this story 
seems to be universal ; it is the (Edipus complex in 
one of its many adaptations, often crudely expressed 
with literal exactness, more often modified by sub- 
stituting for the parents more adult objects of inter- 
est. In the latter case, however, these surrogates 
are shown by the patient's speech, sooner or later, to 
be only substitutes. In many cases of dementia 
praecox the primitive incest ideas may occur in sim- 
ple, direct terms and these are apt to be deteriorat- 
ing cases. Eoughly speaking the prognosis seems to 
correspond with the crudity or refined elaboration 



148 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

of this fundamental theme. In manic-depressive 
insanity, although attachment to, and intimacy with, 
the parent of the opposite sex may be the essence of 
the trend, this relationship is not represented liter- 
ally as a sexual one. This definitely sexual element 
only appears in the more chronic forms. 

Observations can also be made in the psychoses of 
the ideas which accompany abnormal emotions and 
these observations are useful if not essential to the 
understanding of pathological affects. It is true 
that by hypnotic investigation it is often possible 
to find co-conscious thoughts which seem to explain 
fears, etc., that are otherwise inexplicable, but these 
thoughts are apt to represent preoccupation with 
complicated life situations or, if simple, usually 
have to do with such primitive reactions as fear. 
With the tendency that psychotic ideas have to be 
developments of one fundamental theme it is possi- 
ble to catalogue them, and hence reach relatively 
simple formulations. 1 Ordinary psychoanalytic 
technique gives us practically no assistance in the 
understanding of emotions because, as explained 
above, it has little exactness in dealing with the 
immediate determination of symptoms. 

Study of the psychoses, then, furnishes us with 
valuable material for the fabrication of fundamental 
psychopathological theories. But what are its de- 
fects? They are a natural corollary to its virtues. 
The material — in so far as it is purely psychotic — is 
apt to be too simple for us to get a proper picture 

1 See a forthcoming book by the author on ' ' Morbid and Normal 
Emotions. ' ' 



COMPARISON OF MATERIAL 149 

of the personal drama. So universal are its exposed 
themes that the insane person seems to be enacting a 
human rather than a personal tragedy. It is only so 
far as he is normal, only so far as he is capable of 
responding to hypnotic — or better — psychoanalytic 
investigation, that we can hope to learn from him 
these individual factors the knowledge of which is 
essential for treatment. 



PAET III 
THE PRECONSCIOUS PHASE 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSE OF REALITY 
ACCORDING TO FERENCZI 

Although there is general agreement among psy- 
choanalysts that the forces in the unconscious which 
operate to produce psychoneurotic symptoms are 
essentially sexual, there have still been many who 
do not feel that this tells the whole story. Particu- 
larly they suspect the existence of a stage early in 
infancy which is essentially presexual in its nature 
and they are inclined to regard the type of menta- 
tion then existing as having great importance for 
the establishment of a tendency to abnormal think- 
ing in general. Those who have contributed most to 
the elucidation of this phase are Ferenczi and 
Burrow. It is difficult to overestimate the impor- 
tance of this work, for their speculations are prob- 
ably the only truly original, rather than elaborative, 
productions of those who follow Freud strictly. 
They have even served as stimuli for the psycho- 
logical investigation of clinical types previously neg- 
lected by psychoanalysts. 1 

Ferenczi 's theories are presented mainly in his 
classical paper on "Stages in the Development of 
the Sense of Reality" and to a less extent in his 

1 Witness the studies of Epilepsy by Pierce Clark and by the writer. 

153 



154 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

" Intro jection and Transference." 1 He begins by 
recalling the two stages of child life which Freud 
had described; the first that of pleasure-pain with 
hallucinatory satisfaction of desire, and the second 
that of recognition of external reality. Ferenczi 
sets himself to the task of determining how one 
phase passes over into the other. He finds a clue in 
the symptom of "omnipotence of thought" or 
"magical thoughts" in the compulsive neuroses. 
The patients are prone to feel that their thoughts 
about other people will really cause injury to the 
latter, although their judgment regards such ideas 
as absurd. Fundamentally, he thinks, this feeling is 
based on a recognition of something all-powerful 
within themselves, namely their instincts. The pa- 
tients suffer, presumably, from a fixation at some 
point where actual experience was had of omnipo- 
tence or of what could be interpreted subjectively 
as that. 

While still in utero, the child has no needs which 
are not satisfied without effort on his part, even the 
fundamental demands of warmth, nutrition and oxy- 
gen are met. So the fetus . . . "gets the impres- 
sion that he is omnipotent." "Whether this state- 
ment be justified or not at least one must admit that 
if an adult man could have his necessities so sup- 
plied he would indeed be magically powerful. It is 
like Mother Carey in "The Water Babies" who 
"made things make themselves" so wise and great 
was she. Such psychic processes as exist before 

1 Both of these have been translated by Jones in the book: "Con- 
tributions to Psycho-Analysis, ' ' Boston, Richard GK Badger. 



DEVELOPMENT OP THE SENSE OF REALITY 155 

birth go on after it and so the infant longs to regain 
this situation. He dislikes the world and wishes he 
were back whence he came. Nurses have an instinc- 
tive recognition of this for they duplicate the womb 
environment as perfectly as possible, whenever he 
expresses his dissatisfaction by crying and strug- 
gling. He is wrapped up warmly in coverings that 
exclude the light ; they duplicate the rhythmic move- 
ments and sounds of the mother's body by rocking 
him and with crooning lullabies. Ferenczi pre- 
sumes (following Freud) that the child actually in- 
corporates his wish to return in an hallucination. 
Since the nurses are largely successful in creating 
an illusion of return, the babe believes that the 
hallucination has made the actuality. This estab- 
lishes Ferenczi 's first stage — that of ''magical hal- 
lucinatory omnipotence." The result of this 
treatment is that the infant goes to sleep and in this 
first sleep as in all later ones Ferenczi sees a return 
to the mother's body — "a reproduction of the womb 
situation. ' ' 

Such movements as the suckling makes at this 
stage are incoordinate and explosive. As coordina- 
tion develops he finds that objects "come" to him 
when he stretches out his hands for them. This 
constitutes the second stage, that of "magic move- 
ments. ' ' 

But he soon learns that such commands are not 
always obeyed. He has been living in a world where 
he has simply had to wish, to hallucinate, in a word 
to feel anything to enjoy it in actuality. But he 
now begins to realize that, apart from this feeling 



156 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

world, there is another harsh external world, that 
of reality. The feeling world is ' ' ego, ' ' the external, 
or world of sensation is " non-ego." The two stages 
are the same, Ferenczi says, as his Introjection 
Phase and Projection Phase. Animism appears in 
the transition between the two. In this outer world 
which he is beginning to perceive, the child finds 
similarities to his own organs and activities, so he 
interprets one in terms of the other. This is the 
fundamental basis of symbolism. The most impor- 
tant symbolic activity is the representation of 
objects by vocal sounds. This is slowly developed 
into speech. When once mental images are clothed 
in definite and specific sounds, i. e., in words, 
thoughts are possible. At first these are used, as 
gestures were, for the purpose of issuing commands, 
they too are interpreted by nurses and obeyed and 
so we come finally to the stage of "magic words and 
thoughts. ' ' From this point the gradation is easily 
seen to "normal" mentality, although the transition 
is incomplete in the psychoneurotic or psychotic in- 
dividual who has been "fixed" more or less in these 
earlier stages. 

In his paper on "Introjection and Transference," 
Ferenczi makes it clear that introjection is concerned 
with mental images of outer-world things, which 
are incorporated into the ego by means of fantasy. 
The child (or patient) identifies himself with them. 
Projection is the earlier process, corresponding to 
the recognition of the world as something definitely 
external and inimical. Introjection on the other 
hand is tendency which develops with the beginning 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSE OF REALITY 157 

of emotional objectivity. "The first 'object-love' 
and the first 'object-hate' are, so to speak, the 
primordial transference, the roots of every future 
introjection." Practically, then, introjection is the 
same thing as positive and negative transference, 
but the latter term is usually restricted in psycho- 
analysis as a term for the emotional relationship of 
patient to physician. 

This account of Ferenczi's views has been given 
with a brevity that is hardly fair to their importance 
although his argument has been followed literally. 
There are, of course, certain weaknesses in his 
claims that are immediately apparent. The mental 
processes of the foetus cannot be of the same order 
as our adult ones; they must be primitive and in- 
choate. Yet Ferenczi represents the unborn and 
newly born babe as indulging in perceptions, hal- 
lucinations and arguments such as we would have 
every reason to believe could not exist. In fact he 
himself ascribes sensational life only to the animistic 
stage and thoughts to the speech stage. It is diffi- 
cult to imagine how with the extreme monotony of 
life in utero such impressions as are received from 
without could be correlated to form perceptions. 
Without perceptions there could be no memory in 
any exact sense nor any hallucinations. Yet psy- 
chic processes must have some beginning and prob- 
ably they do begin before birth although not in a 
form which we are accustomed to recognize. We 
cannot envisage with accuracy the neutral experi- 
ences of creatures without consciousness such as we 
enjoy; the best we can do is to describe them in 



158 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

metaphors. This is one of the functions of poetry; 
in fact large parts of Ferenczi 's essay read like a 
paraphrase into academic language of what Words- 
worth has written in his ' ' Ode on the Intimations of 
Immortality." From the latter one gets a feeling 
of truth without the shock to scientific sensibility 
which Ferenczi administers with his ascription of 
consciousness to the foetus. 

Another difficulty appears when one exam- 
ines his alliance of the omnipotence stage with his 
"introjection." He uses Freud's conception of the 
ego in the same puzzling way that has been discussed 
in an earlier chapter. 1 The omnipotence phase 
means nothing if it is not a purely selfish state ; in 
so far as emotional objectivity appears — altruism — 
just to that extent is the self-centered imperious- 
ness weakened. But introjection involves true sym- 
pathy and objectivation. Therefore it cannot have 
an integral connection with the original, purely 
selfish, omnipotence stage of development. 

On the other hand Ferenczi performed great serv- 
ice in drawing psychological attention to a period 
of life that must have great importance in psychic 
development and in attempting to give some char- 
acteristics of this nascent mind which may well 
appear echoed in later life. Indeed, if one is to 
admit the principle of regression, it is difficult to 
eliminate this earliest phase as the goal of most 
complete regression. If reality is difficult to endure, 
and if acute consciousness is developmentally con- 
nected with the recognition of external reality, and 

1 Chapter V. 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSE OF REALITY 159 

if contact with the environment is essentially a func- 
tion of consciousness — all of which any psycho- 
pathologist would admit — then a most natural re- 
gression would appear with a dissolution of con- 
sciousness associated with some expression of return 
to the earlier type of existence. One would expect 
the latter to be formulated as ideas of death and, 
in fact, this is a universal phenomenon. Suicide is 
common, death is frequently portrayed as a release 
from life, while, whenever we are wearied, we lie 
down and sleep. Even in common speech sleep is 
compared with death, so it is safe to assume that 
sleep represents (from the psychological aspect 
only, of course) a normal and partial regression of 
this type. The psychological element in the loss of 
consciousness in epilepsy seems to be similarly 
determined. 

This is the regression from the negative stand- 
point, the blotting out of reality by the lapse of con- 
sciousness. Less universally, however, but still with 
considerable frequency we find this return made 
more attractive by ascribing positive allurements to 
it. Death is figured not merely as a release from 
burdensome life but as a translation to realms of 
bliss. Furthermore in many psychoses there are 
allied with these ideas fairly transparent symbolic 
references to return to the mother's body such as 
being buried alive, living under water, living under- 
ground or being swallowed by a monster and exist- 
ing inside it. Occasionally one even meets with lit- 
eral expression of rebirth. For instance a psychotic 
epileptic used to declare that in each attack he was 



160 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

born again and once, after a seizure I heard him say 
that he had just been born, was covered with blood 
and that it ought to be washed off. Again one may 
find in myths, tales of imagination and the psychoses 
an apparently illogical association of mother-body 
ideas with imaginations of omnipotence. 1 Such 
phenomena present a real problem. Is it to be solved 
by accepting Ferenczi's naive view that the child 
actually remembers his physical surroundings and 
thinks about them in utero or may there be some 
other explanation less destructive of our present 
notions of the development of consciousness and 
memory? An answer to this question goes right to 
the bottom of the problem of individual symbolism, 
which must now be discussed. 

1 For examples of such observations see : Hoeh, ' ' Benign Stupors, ' ' 
New York, Macmillan Co., 1921; MacCurdy, "Productions in a 
Manic-Like State, etc.," Journal of Abnormal Psychology, Vol. 8, 
p. 361; and, "Allmacht der Gedanken in den Mythen von Hephais- 
tos," Imago, Bd. Ill, S. 382. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE ORIGIN" OF SYMBOLS 

The problem of symbolism is too wide a one to be 
solved by research or speculation in one field alone. 
It is a fundamentally primitive type of thinking 
which can be studied wherever thought is primitive. 
That is to say among savages, in childhood, in 
dreams, in abnormal mental states and even in a 
good deal of our adult mentation, which we think is 
conscious and rational but really is not. The dis- 
cussion of this chapter is one from one angle only, 
that of psychopathology. The assumption is made 
that symbol formation is not congenital but acquired 
and an effort is made to reconstruct the processes 
by which this illogical form of thought is created. 
This assumption may not be valid as an exclusive 
hypothesis but pragmatically it has value and should 
not be abandoned until research in other fields dem- 
onstrates the range of its applicability. Even then 
its usefulness will not vanish for a great deal, if 
not all, symbolism must be established while con- 
sciousness is developing. 

We may begin by examining these most puzzling 
phenomena, the mother-body fancies. A clue as to 
their meaning may perhaps be found by examining 
the actual form in which these ideas occur in the 

161 



162 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

psychoses. Vivid reliving of uterine or birth ex- 
periences with literal exactness is an extreme rarity. 
The epileptic patient quoted above produced quite 
exceptional material. The rule is for this trend to 
be expressed in symbols, metaphorically. In other 
words the insane person adopts the same method of 
expression as does the poet, each describing what 
he feels rather than what he knows. Now, if there 
be a latent urge to return to the beginning of life 
again, we would phrase that metaphorically as re- 
birth — and so we do and have done in countless 
religious rites. Then, if we further wished to 
dramatize this process we could do so accurately by 
utilizing our adult knowledge of anatomy and 
physiology or we could put into metaphor that 
which we feel it would be like. That adult knowl- 
edge contributes to the structure of such delusions 
and hallucinations can frequently be observed. For 
instance I once studied the psychosis of a drug 
addict who passed from a delirium into a dementia 
praecox deterioration. Spontaneously or in response 
to the stimulus of one question he would launch into 
an interminable series of pseudo-reminiscences. 
Many of these were concerned with his prowess 
while still in utero (thus emulating and outdoing 
Hercules). He manifestly was trying to describe 
this early lair of his in anatomical terms but having 
little education the best he could often accomplish 
was to say, "When I was in my mother's ovulade, 
etc." This example is important. He meant, of 
course, ovary. There was no question as to his firm 
belief in the experience he was retailing, but he 



THE ORIGIN OF SYMBOLS 163 

could hardly have had any memory of the time when 
he was an unfertilized ovum! His is one of the 
cases which proves too much and thus destroys the 
contention for which proof is sought. It is prob- 
able that all literal details, with which the mother- 
body situation is elaborated in works of the imag- 
ination, dreams and delusions, are the product of 
knowledge gained after the stage of development 
to which they are assigned in the final production. 

To explain this process we may recapitulate 
Ferenczi's argument with modifications. The foetus 
experiencing only the most monotonous afferent 
stimuli can recognize neither comfort nor discom- 
fort, either of which demands contrast for its per- 
ception. After birth, an ordeal which probably no 
sentient human nervous system could endure, the 
infant finds himself in a blinding, cold world. He 
has then the first experience which is later to be 
repeated with sufficient frequency for him to learn 
it as a definite perception. He is "uncomfortable," 
or rather let us say, a set of reflexes are set up by 
these new stimuli which he later learns to recognize 
as discomfort. The nurse duplicates so far as pos- 
sible the situation in utero. He thus begins to learn 
different environmental conditions, some comfort- 
able, some not. The former are always associated 
with an assortment of stimuli which we, as adults, 
realize that he enjoyed before birth. If we can 
imagine his being conscious and able to formulate 
his desires at this stage, we would hear him say, 
"I want to be warm, to feel something all around 
me, to have no light in my eyes, to hear nothing but 



164 PKOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

rhythmic sounds. I don't even want to be bothered 
with the weight of my own body and limbs." But, 
of course, he does not think this. The best he can 
do is to learn gradually different experiences or 
situations that constitute one or more of the ele- 
ments of the general desire formulated above. As 
he gains coordination he can assist in the realiza- 
tion of these wishes for peace. He can snuggle up 
against his mother's warm body, pull the bedding 
over himself, shut his eyes or cover them, cover his 
ears or enjoy the delightful levitation of being car- 
ried or of floating and bobbing in a bath. All of 
this may occur without definite apperception. 

Each one of these experiences or situations thus 
gains a pleasurable, an emotional value for him. 
The child no less than the man likes or dislikes a 
new sensation in accordance with the pleasure or 
pain he has known with something similar. As con- 
ciousness, in our adult sense of the term, is being 
developed the child is having more experiences, is 
living in a larger world. Anything in this enlarged 
universe, that reminds him emotionally of these 
earlier delights, attracts him. He dreams of them. 
In short, they become symbols to him of peace and 
security. This is, perhaps, the history of the womb 
— or, better term, the mother-body — symbols. We 
have imagined the infant making certain demands 
for comfort. If an intelligent man be asked what 
these suggest to him he may come to the conclusion 
that there is only one situation that fulfills all the 
needs, namely life in utero. A psychoanalyst put- 
ting such a question may get this reply and assume 



THE ORIGIN OF SYMBOLS 165 

therefrom that the patient unconsciously yearns to 
be back in his mother's body. But this deduction 
is not justified. The patient may merely want just 
those things which we represented the infant as 
demanding. Of course it seems probable that many 
people unconsciously put this question to them- 
selves as it were. They answer it similarly and, in 
the unconscious, the composite desire may well be 
expressed in a single word, the womb. This would 
explain the definite references to such a return in 
the delusions of insane patients to whom no suggest- 
ive questions have been put. In such patients any 
knowledge that may be gained in adult life may be 
utilized unconsciously in the elaboration of just 
what is desired. The epileptic, for instance, who 
asked to have the blood washed off him, had had an 
opportunity to know what a sanguinary affair par- 
turition may be. He had a child of his own. 

There remains the problem of accounting for the 
coincidence of ideas of power and of return to the 
mother's body or to the early suckling stage, the 
"nest" place as Burrow appropriately terms it. 
This is probably a simple matter. The younger the 
child the more he gets his own way, the more is 
his comfort looked after. Ferenczi is quite right 
in all that he says about the solicitude of the en- 
vironment for the infant. There are probably two 
reasons for this. Those in charge of the baby know 
he will perish without their care and secondly his 
needs are simple. As he develops, however, he 
gains greater capacity for self-help and at the same 
time his ambitions become broader and less easily 



166 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

satisfied. He finds that he can gain happiness only 
by his own efforts. As a matter of fact he now 
enjoys more actual power than he did before, he 
can change the environment more according to his 
notions than he could before when very little ego 
in the proper sense of the term was in existence. 
But he can recall, or more exactly he can retro- 
spectively feel, that there was a time when more 
was done for him. When his volition was weak he 
got all he wanted, now that he has more definite will 
he gets much less than he wants. What more nat- 
ural than that he should allocate to the past an en- 
joyment of power to get what he wanted, which he 
no longer experiences? The "nest" then becomes 
in his mind a palace where he was emperor. When 
thwarted in attaining his ambitions or wearied in 
the struggle the man wishes he were a boy again, 
when he had so much vigor that he ran for the sheer 
joy of using his muscles, forgetting the innumerable 
restrictions with which parents and teachers en- 
slaved him. Similarly the child with budding con- 
sciousness probably wishes himself in a vague way 
back in the cradle and does this with no realization 
that the peace he enjoyed and the homage he secured 
were the privileges of a hothouse plant, not of a 
sentient individuality. 

These dreams of a Golden Age — for they are pure 
dreams — are expressed in symbols as we have seen. 
Why 1 The answer goes right to the root of psycho- 
analytic theory. 1 It is not merely because the real 

1 Whether the symbolism that interests ethnologists is similarly de- 
termined may be quite another matter. 



THE ORIGIN OF SYMBOLS 167 

underlying wish is repugnant to some adult moral 
sense — that is only a frequent overdetermining 
factor — but because the ideas are expressible only 
in symbols. In the stage of mental development to 
which return is desired no accurate perceptions of 
the environment is possible, even feelings cannot be 
formulated consciously ; they can only be felt. Per- 
ception, consciousness, verbal thoughts come later 
and when they come, certain experiences that can 
be registered are dowered with an attractiveness 
and a feeling of similarity which they owe to re- 
semblance to the experiences of the preceding stage 
when consciousness was larval. It is only these 
later experiences that can be remembered, they stand 
symbolically for the enjoyment of the past. But — 
a most important point — since the valuation of the 
past is a retrospective falsification, the wish did 
not develop till the symbols appeared and hence that 
wish can be expressed only in symbols. Reduce the 
symbols to their latent terms, that is to a concrete 
expression of the "wish" and you get something 
hopelessly vague or else something utterly ridicu- 
lous. 1 An example of the latter is the wish to be 
back in the mother's womb. 

Poetry and imaginative literature are full of 
examples of concepts too vague to be put into any- 
thing but symbols. Many dreams are also of this 

1 This is probably as important a factor in psychoanalytic treat- 
ment as is the recognition by the patient of his inner sexual anomalies. 
When a patient has been living in a world of symbols he can learn 
to adapt himself to reality only when the baselessness of his symbols 
is patent to him. They can then no longer function as they did 
when they were "reality" for him. 



168 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

order representing ideas too shadowy to be clearly 
formulated or remembered. A good example of this 
is to be found in the last dream recorded by 
De Quincey in his ' ' Confessions. " If I understand 
it aright it can only refer to the subjective experi- 
ences of an infant being born. Immediately after 
its recital the author goes on to say that it is prob- 
ably more painful to be born than to die and 
discusses his rebirth with the cessation of laudanum 
drinking. These remarks seem as like interpretive 
free associations as anything in literature. He was 
struggling to express the tumult and agony of tran- 
sition from one life to another. In the unconscious 
this is envisaged as literal birth. There can be no 
definite or real memory of the event but what "it 
must be like" may be expressed in metaphor and 
this is what De Quincey seems to have done in his 
dream. These are of course pure speculations. But, 
until some baby is born speaking and familiar with 
abstract terms, we shall be forced to content our- 
selves with pure speculation. If we refuse to spec- 
ulate we must leave a most important field of 
psychology and psychopathology totally incompre- 
hensible. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 

These general remarks about symbolism are prob- 
ably quite applicable to the understanding of the 
infantile sexuality which Freud first described, 
which is always found by psychoanalysts and which 
may be objectively observed in the psychoses. The 
stress laid by the Freudians on infantile sexuality 
is repugnant to our moral and aesthetic sense, but 
science should not tolerate any such opposition. 
What is of real importance is that it seems biolog- 
ically unnatural for the most powerful instinctive 
drive to be something useless and futile from the 
standpoint of any kind of adaptation past or future. 

Moreover actual observation of the child fails to 
confirm the psychoanalytic theory. It is true that 
one whose eyes have been opened by modern psy- 
chological literature observes innumerable evidences 
of infantile sexuality in act and speech to which he 
was previously blind or deaf. But forced interpre- 
tation is necessary to give the erotic anything like 
the exclusive importance in the life of the child 
(beyond the actual suckling period), which is de- 
manded by zealous Freudians. For example, little 
interpretation is necessary to convince one that 
puppies play almost exclusively at fighting and 

169 



170 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

copulating. But children 's games are inexhaustible : 
they imitate almost any activity they see in their 
elders and in addition run, swing and climb with an 
apparently instinctive delight. It is true that any 
one of their actions may be given a symbolic activ- 
ity by interpretation (for which during analysis in 
later life there may be evidential justification) but 
according to Freudian dogma these children have 
not yet begun to repress their infantile sexuality and 
as a matter of fact we see them indulge in auto- 
erotic practices quite shamelessly and exhibit no 
embarrassment about their sexual curiosity. With- 
out repression there is no necessity for symboliza- 
tion. The deduction is therefore justifiable that the 
larger part of their activities is non-sexual. If 
Freud had claimed that sexuality — as it is ordinarily 
understood — were all-important, he would only be 
echoing the opinion of many novelists and other 
observers of human behavior. On the other hand 
no one who has adequately and sincerely studied the 
matter has failed to convince himself not merely of 
the importance of aberrant sexuality in psycho- 
pathic states but also of its unconscious influence 
in normal people. Are we to conclude that man is 
dowered with useless, even harmful, instincts? 
Another view is possible. It may be that his in- 
stincts are sound and work constructively except 
where abnormality is present ; that infantile sexual- 
ity is an unreal thing, like the "nest" symbols 
discussed above, and becomes of importance only 
when that which is symbolic attains a value inde- 
pendent of what is symbolized. 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 171 

The argument concerning mother-body symbols 
dealt with the reception or rejection of stimuli pro- 
ceeding from the environment not clearly perceived 
but only "felt." But these are not the only afferent 
impulses. The reflex and semi-reflex movements in 
feeding and excreting must give some sensation just 
as tactile stimuli do. Particularly when coordina- 
tion is developing and the infant is able to produce 
or control the stimuli and movements, the sensations 
experienced would be the most important elements 
in his psychic functioning. But it must not be 
thought that he is acutely conscious and discrim- 
inative of these sensations. 1 For a number of weeks, 
with the exception of sucking movements the infant 
is incoordinate. The first coordination is usually 
observed in the continually improving efforts to get 
the thumb into the mouth. (The pleasure of sucking 
has thus a biological advantage, it is an educative 
impulse.) At this stage sensations are probably 
similarly "incoordinate," i.e., not yet true percep- 
tions. "What pleasure the infant is able to produce 
is by stimulation of his body and this delight is 
likely to be commensurate with his success in achiev- 
ing just the perception he most wants. Apart from 
nutrition his interest in the environment is mainly 
negative. One's mentality — child or man — is as 
wide as his range of interest. Granted a creature 
whose positive interest is confined to bodily sensa- 
tions and you have a creature who thinks only in 
terms of the body. 

We interpret new experiences in terms of the al- 

1 They are probably of a " protopathic ' ' order. See Chapter XVII. 



172 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ready known. This makes it inevitable that, as in- 
terest is spontaneously advancing with natural 
development, whatever is observed outside the body 
must be interpreted as analogous to bodily percep- 
tions. This is the animistic phase of which Ferenczi 
speaks so plausibly : 

"Everything points to the conclusion that the child passes 
through an animistic period in the apprehension of reality, in 
which every object appears to him to be endowed with life, and in 
which he seeks to find again in every object his own organs and 
their activities. . . . The child's mind (and the tendency of the 
unconscious in adults that survives from it) is at first concerned 
exclusively with his own body, and later on chiefly with the satis- 
fying of his instincts, and with the pleasurable satisfactions that 
sucking, eating, contact with the genital regions, and the functions 
of excretion procure for him, what wonder, then, if also his atten- 
tion is arrested above all by those objects and processes of the 
outer world that on the ground of ever so distant a resemblance 
remind him of his dearest experiences." 

Since the world around is interpreted in terms of 
the body, somatic perceptions constitute the child's 
first "language" or "thoughts." This is for two 
reasons: he is interested only in what can remind 
him of his body and his comprehension is developed 
to the point of understanding only his body. One 
would expect, however, that with his further devel- 
opment both of interest and intelligence this body 
language would pass away. He would learn much 
more discriminative labels for the objects around 
him and let the others totally lapse just as the um- 
bilical vein shrivels up and ceases to carry a single 
drop of blood once independent respiration and nu- 
trition are established. But the situation is not so 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 173 

simple in the pyschic sphere. The umbilical vein is 
tied, the placenta gone, no return to that form of 
respiration or nutrition is possible. And the transi- 
tion is abrupt as well as final. The development of 
interest in, and comprehension of, the outer world 
is, however, a gradual matter. New powers are 
quickly tired and it is always easy to slip back into 
the old habits. When the world ceases to repay 
the budding interest taken in it, regression to bodily 
stimulation and preoccupation is natural. This does 
not mean that the body is really more pleasure- 
giving. Child or man, we seem always to have great- 
est delight in the exercise of new faculties. It 
simply is easier. With this growth there comes also 
a demand for adaptation, partly internal, partly 
external in origin. Pleasure can no longer be ob- 
tained without great and greater effort. The past 
must then seem to have been heavenly — complete 
happiness securable by such simple means as suck- 
ing one 's thumb ! Thus a retrospective falsification 
appears, which glorifies past pleasures, just at the 
same time as they are being expressed in terms of 
objective reality. Bodily sensations therefore gain 
a symbolic value that is analogous to that of the 
"nest" symbols. They are based on a belief, so to 
speak, of the body once having been able to give 
pleasures such as are now enjoyed. Yet it would 
be a great mistake to assume that this is conscious 
reasoning. 

Observations confirm the opinion that when the 
range of interest widens, auto-erotism no longer 
gives obvious pleasure. The suckling who succeeds 



174 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

in getting his thumb into his mouth certainly looks 
pleased and contented. Similarly much older chil- 
dren (and many adults) put themselves to sleep by 
some auto-erotic practice or attitude. In both these 
situations we have a practical non-existence of the 
environment. In one case it cannot be mentally 
grasped, in the other attention to the environment 
and normal interest in it are deliberately abandoned. 
But children who are beginning to run about and 
play exhibit little satisfaction with the auto-erotism 
in which they may be observed to be indulging. It 
is apt to occur when they are reproved or prevented 
from following some whim. Then the picking of the 
nose, boring the ear or even actual masturbation 
may appear, seemingly without much awareness of 
what the hand is doing. No expression of joy or 
contentment is seen, the face may even be sullen. In 
fact the act seems to be rather compulsive and not 
initiated with any idea of gaining pleasure. Con- 
scious pleasure is now associated with externalized 
activities. 

It must not be thought that the argument of 
retrospective falsification implies any conscious or 
exact animadversion of the infant. If he were capa- 
ble of reasoning as adults are and if he still showed 
the same sequence of behavior and interest, we 
would be justified in ascribing such a train of 
thought to him. As a matter of fact it is probably 
incorrect to think of the mentation of the child at 
this age as either conscious or unconscious. He has 
only a larval consciousness and imagination. He 
reacts instinctively in various situations, has only 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 175 

a beginning awareness of what he has been doing 
and only the faintest knowledge of how he would 
behave in any future situation. 1 " Retrospective 
falsification" is just a grown-up way of saying he 
turns instinctively to auto-erotism expecting satis- 
faction from it commensurate with the pleasure he 
derives from his more mature activities. 

The first function of auto-erotism is educative — 
a stimulus to control of movement and establishment 
of true perceptions. The next is also a step in edu- 
cation. The phenomena to be observed in the 
external world make too big a mass to be grasped 
all at once. The process is gradual and something 
must guide the interest of the child to one thing 
rather than another. The nutritional impulse per- 
haps directs the attention to one important goal, 
the breast and nipple of the mother. 2 Otherwise 
auto-erotic, animistic tendency is probably respon- 
sible for the guidance of all externalized interest. 
Seeking contact with the outer world he is first at- 
tracted to things that remind him of his own body 
and bodily activities. But it must not be thought 

1 Even when speech is fairly well established children can report 
what they have been doing only during the previous few minutes. 
When told they can recognize the account of their experiences as 
true but they cannot summon these memories voluntarily. The de- 
light which so many children exhibit in being told a "story" of 
something they did even a few hours before is probably thus ex- 
plicable. They are anxious to develop a capacity for this form of 
thinking and so this memory, vicariously achieved, gives pleasure. 

2 The newborn infant, of course, sucks quite indiscriminately and 
has to be guided to the nipple, although many who write on "psy- 
chology" seem blandly to assume the existence at birth of this per- 
ceptual capacity. 



176 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

that at this stage, auto-erotism supplies the energy 
for this interest, for in this case there would be no 
recourse to the environment. If it were a matter 
of an increasing auto-erotism there would simply 
be a frenzied stimulation of the Body produced. The 
driving force is that x within all specialized animals 
that leads them on to the development of higher 
and higher functions. It is growth — whatever that 
may be. 

In the larval consciousness of the child there is 
probably very little discrimination made between 
the concept of the thumb, for instance, and that of 
the rattle which he puts into his mouth. One 
"word," so to speak, will cover both. Since this 
body-language is to become the language of the un- 
conscious, as we shall see, it is most important to 
bear this in mind. A dream for instance which may 
be found to contain such symbols is probably just as 
correctly described as a "rattle" dream as an auto- 
erotic dream. It refers to this period of life, that 
is the all important thing, and may represent bud- 
ding interest in the world around just as well as 
auto-erotism, for the very good reason that an infant 
of this age is interested neither in one nor the other 
but in a kind of mixture of both. 

The next stage is one of great importance and 
presents new problems. It is that of the disappear- 
ance from consciousness of auto-erotism and its 
animistic "language" and its perpetuation in the 
unconscious. The first part is easily understood. 
As we have said the first somatic sensations must be 
vague, and accurate perceptions develop gradually. 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 177 

As the psyche expands sensations become sharply 
defined and organized into definite perceptions. The 
need for animistic labels no longer exists and as far 
as peripheral somatic sensations are concerned 
auto-erotism has played its role in that development 
and is finished. At the same time interest has been 
transferred to the outer world which can give so 
much more return to a truly sentient being. Every- 
thing conspires then, for the destruction of auto- 
erotism and all connected therewith. The organism 
has advanced to the development of a definite con- 
sciousness that has no need of such childish things. 

A comparison with the fate of other bodily sen- 
sations may make this clearer. The kind of vague- 
ness, lack of discrimination and localization, which 
we have posited for early peripheral sensations, 
exists even in adult life with visceral, afferent im- 
pulses. If sensations and even pains could be 
described and localized within the body as they are 
on its surface, medical and surgical diagnosis would 
be extraordinarily simplified. And what of the 
' ' language ' ' of visceral impressions ? We find it has 
not disappeared from consciousness like that of 
auto-erotism, it is still used but only to denominate 
those vague, subjectively experienced perceptions 
which we call emotions. We have not evolved to 
the point of making accurate discriminations and 
measurements either of visceral stimuli or of 
affective experience, hence one group is used meta- 
phorically to describe the other. We have courage, 
i. e., we have heart; we have — or lack — "guts"; we 
are inspired, dispirited or exhausted; when sad we 



178 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

are, etymologically, full, an idea which returns lit- 
erally in the modern expression " fed-up"; we are 
hot-or cold-blooded. These metaphors have affected 
science and theories have held ground for centuries 
that would probably never have come into being, 
were it not for this visceral language. One thinks at 
once of the various ' 'humors," of " melancholy," of 
the ascription of mental processes to the heart or 
diaphragm (witness all the psychological terms con- 
taining the root "phren") that culminates in the 
doctrine of the "abdominal brain." A modern ex- 
ample, with slightly greater objective foundation, it 
is true, is to be found in the James-Lange theory of 
emotions. Until we free ourselves of this truly in- 
fantile habit of treating metaphors as though they 
were identities, important branches of psychology 
are bound to remain mere animism. 

Advance of interest in the outer world and the 
development of a sense of objective reality have 
eliminated from adult consciousness what we have 
termed auto-erotic language. There remains the 
other aspect of this problem, its persistence in the 
unconscious. Has auto-erotism other functions 
besides those already described? If we define it as 
preoccupation with bodily sensations, one obvious 
necessity of the organism can be seen to be closely 
connected with it. If absolute indifference to 
physical well-being developed, neglect of the body 
would appear. In fact this is a daily phenomenon. 
Men are constantly becoming too engrossed in ex- 
ternal interests to attend to the simplest rules of 
hygiene. Think to what a green old age the hypo- 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 179 

chondriac so often attains! In milder grades the 
connection of hypochondria and auto-erotism is a 
matter of analysis and interpretation but in some 
of the psychoses, particularly in involution melan- 
cholia, the interrelation of the two is patent. Since 
it is advisable, then, for some interest in the body 
to be maintained, its abolition with the passing of 
the auto-erotic language would be a serious detri- 
ment biologically. But this would, or should not, 
involve a definite dissociation from consciousness. 
It should be simply a part of the mens sana in cor- 
pore sano. 

The all important complication appears in the 
connection that auto-erotism establishes with sexual- 
ity. This is a topic that must be discussed later 
under the heading of the development of the sex 
instincts, so only the salient points need be men- 
tioned now. Breeding is a function which involves 
great sacrifice for the individual and were it not 
dowered with an immediate and powerful pleasure 
would tend to lapse, particularly among self- 
conscious animals. The pleasure is, fundamentally, 
a physical one, in other words satisfaction is gained 
by stimulation of specific parts of the body. If the 
infant in passing from his early phase of auto-erotic 
interest were to abandon utterly his capacity for 
physical pleasure, the sex instinct awakened at 
physiological puberty would have no tools to work 
with, so to speak. On the other hand, if auto-erotism 
were therefore allowed to persist in its native form, 
self stimulation would become fixed as the only pos- 
sible form of gratification. This, I believe, is the 



180 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

reason why the spark has to be kept glowing, but 
not allowed to burst into flame, a process best accom- 
plished by maintenance in the unconscious of the 
desire for bodily pleasure. The mechanism of the 
repression is a matter for later discussion. 

At this point, however, the function of the auto- 
erotic symbol should be considered. The conclusion 
was reached above that things in the outer world 
which resemble the child's organs or activities are 
held by him to be equivalents but that this new inter- 
est is not due to auto-erotism but merely directed 
by it. These outer things become the auto-erotic 
symbols, of course. Freudian literature is full of 
statements about the determination of normal char- 
acteristics and interests as well as symptoms by 
unconscious auto-erotism. All these things are 
symbols or symbolically determined. The question 
is, how far are we justified in accepting the proposi- 
tion that the energy which activates this behavior 
is auto-erotic? "When may we say that auto-erotism 
has simply given a direction to energy derived else- 
where and when is it the motive power 1 The answer 
must be that the motivation is truly auto-erotic when 
the activity has auto-erotic qualities. For instance, 
let us take some simple instances. The habits of 
smoking or gum-chewing are surely auto-erotic of 
their very nature. The acts would be meaningless 
if it were possible to perform them without sensa- 
tion in the mouth and throat. But suppose a man 
manufactures one of these articles. The psycho- 
analyst will trace out the history of his interest in 
the practice, will find that as child he was a great 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 181 

finger sucker, later was always sucking or chewing 
his pencil, was very fond of kissing, etc. The con- 
clusion is justifiably reached that the mouth area of 
his body was an important zone in childhood. In 
his adult life he is constantly dreaming of the mouth 
in one way or another, he may even dream of busi- 
ness operations as swallowing, spitting up capital, 
machinery, etc. From this evidence the Freudian 
concludes that his business is an outlet for an auto- 
erotic urge. But we must remember that he has 
to manufacture something and nothing he is likely to 
choose as a commodity will be immune from similar 
analysis. No line of interest comes out of the blue, 
each has its specific history. Further we must bear 
in mind that he is manufacturing. He is creating, 
gaining wealth for the support of his family and so 
on. These activities are not characteristic of any- 
thing auto-erotic. Instinctively and behavioristic- 
ally, they are related to the later forms of sex which 
are constructive and involve an external object. 

But how about the dreams in which his business 
is represented in terms of mouth activities? This 
brings up the whole question of how ideas are ex- 
pressed in dreams. Freud has shown that during 
sleep we think in images, that abstractions are de- 
picted symbolically as concrete objects and actions. 
The primitive language of the unconscious is a body 
language as we have said above. Each person has 
his own unconscious predilection for symbols. This 
manufacturer dreams of his business in terms of 
mouth activities — another man would put the same 
ideas in terms of another organ or of other activi- 



182 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ties. It is the ideas which are of importance. They 
can be expressive of quite other interests than the 
auto-erotic and still be put in those terms. To in- 
terpret such dreams as fundamentally auto-erotic is 
to commit the error of the child or savage in confus- 
ing the name with the thing. 

This is, indeed, what happens when symptoms de- 
velop. Eegression takes place; the language is 
interpreted literally in conduct. Our hypothetical 
manufacturer, for instance, may develop after busi- 
ness (and other) troubles a difficulty in swallowing. 
The dream which normally is only a fagon de parler, 
is being dramatized. At once the character of the 
mental processes is changed. He is now indulging 
in something that is definitely auto-erotic. That 
which was in infancy frank auto-erotism, then a di- 
rection of energy for other interests and a language 
for the expression of those interests, has returned 
to the original form. In fact one is probably safe 
in making the generalization that symptoms only 
appear when unconsciously used symbols are ex- 
pressed in behavior at their face value. Otherwise 
the dreams of all normal people would convict them 
of mental abnormality. 

A number of emotional characteristics of an 
antisocial kind have been claimed by Freud and his 
followers to be developments of anal erotism. Such 
are stinginess, animosity, stubbornness, conceit, bad 
temper, willfulness and so on. Jones x gives a long 
catalogue of these. His description sounds like that 

1 ' ' Anal Erotism, ' ' Chapter XL, Papers on Psychoanalysis, New 
York, Wood & Co.. 1918. 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 183 

of a spoiled child with tantrums or like what is fre- 
quently observed in involution melancholia. Many 
cases of dementia praecox and some of manic- 
depressive insanity also show these features but it 
is in the whining depressions of the involution period 
that the reaction assumes its most consistent form 
and becomes a definite part of the clinical picture. 

One can understand how an emotional habit that 
might symbolize the impulse of such a specific ac- 
tivity as anal erotism might be a direct representa- 
tive of it in later life, a conscious expression of what 
is still present in the unconscious. For instance, 
according to Freud's hypothesis, a child may have a 
keen desire to retain his feces longer than the nurse 
wishes and so develop a habit of hoarding and of 
stinginess. When thrift becomes meanness it is not 
difficult to imagine that anal symbolism is invading 
consciousness. If the child had no contests with the 
adults who try to rear him other than those arising 
from his habits of defecation one could also under- 
stand stubbornness developing in a similar way. 
But it would be a rare nursery that staged conflicts 
over just this one difference. The child is willful 
and wants his own way over many things and con- 
sequently there is little a priori ground for expecting 
a rigid correlation between anal erotism and stub- 
bornness and so it is with the other characteristics 
which make up the general picture of egotism. 

In an earlier chapter objection was taken to the 
argument of psychoanalysts that coincidence of 
unconscious ideas necessarily implies an immediate 
and causal relationship between them. This is a case 



184 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

in point. Most people with strong auto-erotic sur- 
vivals will show considerable evidence of uncon- 
scious anal erotism. Unless one can prove by 
observation of the child or a clear history the de- 
velopment of these general antisocial character- 
istics with an isolated anal erotism, it is just as 
logical to assign the determination to the auto- 
erotism in general or to a regression to the emotional 
attitude of the infant at the auto-erotic period. 

Actual observation of children shows that they 
may have no real irregularity, and no greater inter- 
est, in bowel function than in any other region of 
the body and yet show the general spoiled-child 
characteristics in marked degree. Such children 
are, of course, not free from other auto-erotic 
inclinations. 

Or we may turn to the psychoses. For light on 
this point I have looked over material recently pub- 
lished for other purposes x In involution melan- 
cholia, auto-erotism either as observable habit or 
expressed rather frankly in some hypochondriacal 
idea is so common as almost to be the rule, except 
in that group that shows a pure fear reaction. Many 
cases also show peevishness, petulance, tantrums, 
etc. In sixty-seven cases I find that in fourteen 
these characteristics were associated with anal 
erotism, in three with other forms of auto-erotism 
but not with anal erotism and in six with no record 
of anything auto-erotic whatever. The existence of 
this last group, might lead one to suggest that the 

1 Hocb and MacCurdy, ' ' The Prognosis of Involution Melancholia. ' ' 
Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry, Vol. VII, No. 1. 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 185 

auto-erotism was repressed more deeply than the 
bad behavior. But unfortunately for this view the 
tendency in this psychosis seems to be in the other 
direction for there were fifteen cases where observa- 
tion was made of plain auto-erotic practices or ideas 
in which no antisocial conduct was recorded. From 
the occurrence of six cases where irritability was 
present with no indication of auto-erotism one might 
therefore conclude that the tantrum reaction can 
exist independent of any strong auto-erotic tendency. 
At the first blush the fourteen cases of coincidence 
of refractory conduct and anal erotism look like a 
tendency for specific relationship. But in eleven of 
these other forms of auto-erotism existed as well, 
so that the behavior anomaly appeared three times 
with pure anal erotism and three times with other 
forms of body interest, excluding the anal region. 
There is certainly no evidence for specificity in this 
form of mental disease. 

Freud has stated that gold is a fecal symbol and 
that interest in money and property is an exhibition 
of unconscious anal erotism. He does not say that 
this is the sole root of greed but some of his follow- 
ers seem to think so. It may be interesting, there- 
fore, to see what the behavior of property ideas is 
in involution melancholia since delusions of poverty 
are also quite frequent. In the same sixty-seven 
cases such delusions were coincident with anal 
erotism eleven times, with other forms of auto- 
erotism three times, but with no auto-erotism 
fourteen times. This would certainly indicate that 
other types of unconscious interest may determine 



186 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the love of property. In two cases these delusions 
existed with an isolated anal erotism and in one of 
them the evidence was strong for a causal relation- 
ship. Complaints of poverty disappeared as soon 
as the anal erotism appeared. 

This evidence would seem to justify a less rigid 
formulation than that of the zealous Freudians who 
derive antisocial behavior and attitudes directly 
from anal erotism and incline one to look rather for 
some looser association with auto-erotism in general. 
It has been pointed out above that at an early stage 
auto-erotism is a natural preoccupation. At this 
time the attitude of the child is neither social, nor 
antisocial. It is indifferent. But with retrospective 
falsification the motivation of the practices changes 
somewhat. There is a reversion to auto-erotism be- 
cause more social interests fail to give pleasure or 
are actually provocative of pain. Rebellion is apt 
to be an accompaniment. An active and willful re- 
gression is therefore apt to be expressed both in an 
antisocial attitude and in auto-erotism. This prin- 
ciple probably holds true during after-life. The 
individual who cannot get on equably with his fellows 
displays his maladaptability in his emotional con- 
duct and at the same time regresses unconsciously 
by preoccupation in dreams with auto-erotic fan- 
tasies. If the latter tendency be pronounced actual 
symptoms may appear. The relation of the two is 
not cause and effect but each is an effect of a com- 
mon cause, regression to a period of life and of erotic 
interest that has nothing social in it. 

There remains to be discussed but one other 



THE MEANING OF AUTO-EROTISM 187 

detail in connection with this topic and it may be 
disposed of briefly. Freudians claim that excessive 
neatness, cleanliness, sense of propriety and so on 
that may develop to the point of foppishness and 
foolish punctiliousness are products of anal erotism 
as reaction formations. 1 That is, the unconscious 
love of filth develops into its opposite, a passion for 
order and purity. Action and reaction are equal 
and opposite in psychology as well as physics and 
therefore one would expect exaggerations of these 
qualities to represent some protection which the 
psychic organism is building up in order to guard 
itself against the opposite tendency. But to claim 
that these characteristics originate in anal erotism 
is preposterous and to imply it is to indulge in great 
carelessness of expression. These qualities can 
exist by themselves alone or as derivatives of other 
instinctive tendencies — they do in many animals. 2 
They are simply utilized as protective measures. 
Some children also seem to be born neat, others 
careless and slovenly, quite independently of anal 
erotism and they seem to exhibit these characteris- 
tics before those secondary developments appear 
that are plainly the result of environment and the 
conflicts which emerge from contact with the 
environment. 

*For instance Jones, vide supra. 

' Cats, for instance, are neat and clean, yet no Freudian has had 
the temerity to account for this as a revolt against anal erotism. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 

As we have seen, Ferenczi describes a mental state 
in the infant existing before recognition of the outer 
world is accurate, in which body sensations pre- 
dominate and in which thoughts are omnipotent. 
Burrow * treats of the same period in a different 
way. He is interested in the nature of the conscious- 
ness which then obtains and finds it to be intensely 
subjective. Out of this subjectivity grows a 
tendency for identification with the environment that 
leads specifically to the development of unconscious 
homosexuality, underlies all true love, is the basic 
factor in repression and so is responsible for all 
psychoneuroses. 

We may conveniently begin consideration of Bur- 
row's arguments with his theories concerning 
homosexuality. His problem there is wider than 
that of mere overt inversion, for he writes of the 
unconscious homosexuality found so universally in 

1 His argument is found chiefly in two papers : ' ' The Genesis and 
Meaning of Homosexuality and its Relation to the Problem of Intro- 
verted Mental States," The Psychoanalytic Review, Vol. 4, No. 3; 
and "The Origin of the Incest- Awe, " The Psychoanalytic Review, 
Vol. 5, No. 3. Reference is also made to it in "Notes with Ref- 
erence to Freud, Jung and Adler, " Journal of Abnormal Psychol- 
ogy, August, 1917, and in "Psychoanalysis in Theory and in Life," 
Proceedings of the International Conference of Women Physicians, 

Vol. rv. 

188 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 189 

the analysis of psychoneurotics as to seem an essen- 
tial factor in neurotic reactions. He is dissatisfied 
with the conventional psychoanalytic hypothesis of 
homosexuality being an enlargement of narcissism, 
which in turn results from the repression of the 
(Edipus, mother-image with substitution of the sub- 
ject himself as love object — an identification with 
the mother. This mechanism may obtain in males, 
although not in females, but dynamically — or 
"genetically" as he says — it cannot account for the 
highly important, unconscious homosexuality. The 
fundamental cause and one which can be seen still 
to be operating in the psychoneuroses is "primary 
identification. ' ' 

"While still in utero, the infant's "organic con- 
sciousness is so harmoniously adapted to its 
environment as to constitute a perfect continuum 
with it." The foetus has no knowledge of where he 
begins and the maternal envelope ends. He has no 
personality, no individuality, because these are the 
sum of consistent reactions to the environment which 
give the organism its psychic individuality or per- 
sonality. Even for some months after birth the 
child is still without true individuality and, so far 
as consciousness is concerned is still an extension of 
the mother so to speak, for all his experience is 
gained through or with the mother. 

"Now during these early months of the infant's exclusive rela- 
tionship with the mother, organic associations begin to be formed 
which mark the beginning of the awakening of consciousness. 
Let it be remembered though that since the child is still in the 
subjective, undifferentiated phase of consciousness, the associations 



190 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

of the first months of infantile life are entirely primary, subjective 
and unconscious, and that therefore its early associations, being 
subjective, non-conscious and undifferentiated, tend always toward 
the closer consolidation of the mother with itself, that is to say, 
they tend to the indissoluble welding together of the infantile 
ego and the mother-image. Thus is strengthened from day to 
day the mental union — the psychic amalgamation between the 
mother and infant which establishes for him an organic bond in 
respect to feeling or consciousness subsequent to birth that is 
correlative with the organic correspondence prior to their sepa- 
ration at birth. It is this subjective continuity — this organic 
mental bond which I call the principle of primary identification." 

A close, even sensual, connection with the mother 
exists with suckling. Burrow accepts the general 
psychoanalytic doctrine of this act giving pleasure 
which is sexual in its nature but he makes, with this 
compliance, a most important discrimination. Since 
the infant has so far no grasp of the external world, 
no real comprehension of anything outside of the 
mother-self complex, he cannot have any true ob- 
jectivation and so, in suckling, he does not make his 
mother a sexual object. 

Such consciousness as he does enjoy is the sub- 
jective unity with his mother, hence his first efforts 
at objectivation follow the line of his mother's solici- 
tation, namely, himself. So he regards his own body 
as a love-object, just as does his mother. With wean- 
ing he is thrown more back upon himself and his 
body becomes the constant and insistent object of his 
interest. Thus auto-erotism. "Now auto-erotism or 
the love of one's own body is the love of that sex to 
which one's own body belongs and this, in psycho- 
logical interpretation is precisely homosexuality.' ' 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 191 

By this argument unconscious homosexuality is 
merely an extension into adult life of the primary 
identification and a psychoneurosis a state of 
heightened subjectivity correlated with the uncon- 
scious homosexuality which is simply one expres- 
sion of it. 

His next point is an important one. Biologically 
sex has one aim, propagation, which forces a rela- 
tion that must exist between those of the opposite 
sexes. But in man it has a psychological develop- 
ment, in love, which does not necessitate a pairing 
of the sexes. So he proceeds to examine the ' ' senti- 
ment of love" and finds that it consists in identifi- 
cation with the love-object. It is not hard to find 
evidence of the existence of this factor and Burrow 
adduces many examples from the vocabulary of love 
to prove it. Normally the biological sex urge leads 
the individual to direct his love capacity, his identi- 
fication tendency to one of the opposite sex but the 
neurotic is so dominated by the primary identifica- 
tion that he cannot do this and so tends to identify 
himself, unconsciously at least, with one like himself, 
i.e., he is homosexual. 

Unconscious homosexuality is thus merely inci- 
dental to the psychoneurosis. A much more funda- 
mental problem is the origin of repression, without 
which one would not get all the distortions and eva- 
sions which constitute symptoms. Repression in 
general is typified in the horror, the revolt, against 
incest, so Burrow sets himself to the task of relating 
this to his principle of primary identification. 

He begins by considering the inherent antagonism 



192 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

between identification and objectivation, between 
the pre-conscious mode of relationship which is 
based on feeling and the conscious mode which is 
based on knowledge. 

"Now the demands of the world of outer objectivity or of con- 
sciousness proper entail increasing outrage to this state of 
primary quiescence. . . . Thus our primary nature shrinks from 
the intrusion of those outer impressions which disturb its elemen- 
tal sleep. And so it may be said that nature abhors consciousness. 
But with the increasing importunities of reality there begins the 
gradual increase of outer objective consciousness. Slowly there 
is the establishment of that rapport between the organism and the 
external world, which constitutes individual adaptation. Observe 
that the process of adaptation is essentially outward-tending, 
away from the ego, that it is inherently a process of objectivation." 

With the advance of objectivation consciousness is 
widened so as to include even the self. One becomes 
self-conscious. The relationship with one's self 
should be purely subjective ; with self -consciousness 
there is a clash, a conflict develops which is the 
essence of the neurosis. 

Subjective feeling and objective consciousness are 
mutually opposed. We feel things by identifying 
ourselves with them, i.e., by " loving" them. Knowl- 
edge and reasoning are always objective. By 
knowledge we gain possession over things emotion- 
ally foreign to us and ordinary sex desire for pos- 
session is of this order. Subjective and objective 
do not mix but always are in conflict. Hence sex as 
possession and "love" are mutually incompatible. 
Eepression is an inevitable result of this conflict 
and since the greatest conflict is over incest — the 
desire to have .carnal knowledge of one with whom 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 193 

subjective feeling should be, and used to be, com- 
plete — the very idea of incest produces an impulse 
of revolt. It is rebellion against making objective 
what should be purely subjective. 

The feeling of repugnance is not against the act 
itself but against the process of making conscious 
what should be unthinking and preconscious in type. 
"Sin," he thinks, is awareness of our nakedness, 
not the nakedness itself. It is knowledge of what 
should be felt only. To buttress this view he gives 
a long list of words showing an etymological rela- 
tionship between the ideas of knowing and sinning 
and many mythological parallels. 

From this point Burrow branches off into argu- 
ments that seem, clearly, to be of a mystical order. 
This unfortunate tendency colors much of his 
writing and is probably the reason why his truly 
scientific views have met with so little acceptance. 
In the minds of most readers his science has been 
obscured by his mysticism. This elaboration may 
be briefly outlined in quotations. 

The general theory of psychoanalysis rests on the 
conception of psychoneurotic symptoms being sub- 
stitutive manifestations of repressed sexuality. 
Burrow claims that these replacements are not pri- 
marily but secondarily representations of the sexual. 

"Sexuality, in my view, being itself a replacement for the com- 
plete unification of personality, that is, the primarily ordered 
state of the psyche as represented in the full acceptance of life 
in its deepest organic as well as conscious sense. The whole 
meaning of sexuality as of unconsciousness is repression, indirec- 
tion, substitution. In a word, sexuality is identical with the 
unconscious and a unification of personality is alone to be found 



194 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

through eliminating the recourses of substitution and so reuniting 
the elements of the conscious and the organic that are now kept 
asunder through the interposition of the unconscious." 

". . . this organic denial and the restless compensations and 
substitutions comprising the unconscious are in essence the psy- 
chology of the mental reaction-average known as normality. . . . 
an analysis of the social unconscious shows that the collective 
reaction embodied in normality betrays a tendency to repression 
and displacement that is no less an indication of disease process 
than is the individual reaction presented in the neurosis. Indeed 
. . . so-called normality is of the two the less progressive type 
of reaction because normality, in evading the issues of the uncon- 
scious, envisages less the processes of growth and a larger con- 
sciousness than the neurotic type of reaction. 

"Thus man's 'morality' — the code of behavior that represents 
psychologically the zealously courted standard of conduct he 
designates as 'normality' — is, in my view, nothing else than an 
expression of the neurosis of the race. It is a complex of symp- 
toms representing the hysterical compensations of society that 
are precisely analogous to the compensative reactions manifested 
in the hysteria of the individual. As morality is essentially the 
pain of the neurotic due to an instinctive sense of his inadequacy 
to the demands of his own individual code of behavior, so morality 
expresses equally the pain of the social organism because of its 
inaptitude to the requirements of the generic social code. 

". . . Human life is subjective. It is something experienced, 
something felt. It is not theoretical, it is actual. It is not 
descriptive; it is dynamic. Human life is, it is not a theory of 
what is. Life as it is felt is our ultimate subjective actuality. 
Subjectivity or feeling is the very basis of life. 

"It is a lesson which parents have yet to learn that the child 
is closer to the inherency of things than the grown-up — that the 
consciousness of childhood stands in a far more truthful relation- 
ship to the actuality of life as it is than the consciousness of the 
conventionalized and sophisticated adult. For years it has been 
my feeling that beneath the conflict of the neurotic personality 
there is presented an urge toward the expression of this primal 
inherency of consciousness." 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 195 

[The psychoanalyst should] ". . . take his stand for a mode of 
consciousness that flings away every habitual protection and 
accepts only the truth of life as it unfolds itself in the communi- 
cation of his own personality as well as that of others." 

We may begin our criticism of Burrow by first 
clearing away these speculations that I have called 
mystical. The essence of mysticism I believe to rest 
on the acceptance of a subjective feeling as an objec- 
tive reality and its treatment in argument as if it 
were objective reality. The primary subjective 
state that he describes with its larval mentality is 
hardly a model for adult life. But from it grows a 
passion for unity that Burrow assumes to be the 
essence of life. He feels it to be and neglects all 
other possible components. He therefore exalts the 
subjective and arrives at the final conclusion that 
society or the individual can attain its greatest de- 
velopment only by following the advice ' ' To thyself 
be true." But the only "self" which he describes 
is that of the newborn infant with its nascent mind. 
Of course he does not claim any virtue for this pri- 
mary subjective phase as such; it is only in its pro- 
motion of unity in later life that he can ascribe virtue 
to it. He forgets that the primary relationship of 
child to mother is a passive one and that it can be- 
come active only in so far as the subjective mode is 
abandoned. The doctrine of being true to one 's self 
is capable of unbridled use as a rationalization. 

It is all very well to attack conventional morality 
and inveigh against the imperfections of society — 
and contentment with it would result in stagnation 
— but the psychopathologist can use nothing less 



196 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

concrete and objective than the mental behavior of 
the average man as his standard of normality. If 
one were to accept Burrow's subjective standard 
each psychiatrist would stand on a pedestal and 
judge the rest of the world to be insane. 

We may next examine his theory of the funda- 
mental basis for incest-horror. It is that the soul 
revolts from making conscious and objective what 
should be pre-conscious and subjective. He assumes 
in this that the mother, with whom the first identity 
is established is the mother of the CEdipus situa- 
tion. But we cannot follow him here. In the first 
place he himself has given us a good description of 
the extreme vagueness of the concept of the other 
person in the primary identification. At this time 
there are not two people according to the child's 
conception but only one. When objectivation does 
begin, it appears as worship of himself, the first 
thing to precipitate out of this mother-child solution. 
Any further objectivation must be an extension of 
this narcissism. Incest would therefore be a de- 
velopment like homosexuality and the revolt would 
be as much against the one as the other. In fact 
they are both much alike in the quality which 
Burrow makes the essence of love, namely identifi- 
cation. Unity of thought and ideals is more easily 
obtained in either of these situations than in any 
ordinary heterosexual situation. The Greeks lauded 
"Platonic love" (which was a homosexual relation- 
ship) because it gave opportunity for mental com- 
munion and mutual inspiration. With the advent of 
Christianity and the development of chivalry this 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OP BURROW 197 

type of devotion was transferred to the irreproach- 
able, untouchable ' 'mother ' ' person. Hence we quite 
properly call the latter kind of relationship "Pla- 
tonic" at the present time. 1 Burrow would be right 
if he made revolt against objectivation in general 
the product of the identification tendency. Further, 
although we can imagine the early mother-child 
union extending into objectivated love with the boy, 
it is quite unthinkable for the girl. She has known 
no pristine bond of unity with the father. 

Some light is thrown on this subject by clinical 
observation, particularly of the psychoses. The com- 
monest cause of nervous or mental breakdown is lack 
of adaptation to the adult sex situation of marriage 
or to something definitely analogous thereto. In 
the resultant pathological states wet see varying 
degrees of regression, whether viewed from the 
standpoint of alteration of consciousness and con- 
tact with the environment or of the ideational con- 
tent, which, with the severity of the process, pro- 
ceeds to earlier and earlier types of erotic interest. 
With the deepening of regression goes a proportion- 
ate lifting of repression. In the neuroses, interpre- 
tation and analysis is necessary to demonstrate the 
return of interest to the parent of the opposite sex. 
In the psychoses less and less interpretation and no 
analysis is needed for this demonstration. Finally 
in certain delusional states of epilepsy we reach a 
crude expression in frankly physical terms of incest 
that often gives no trace of any resistance whatever 

1 See J. A. Symonds, "A Problem in Greek Ethics," privately 
printed. 



198 PEOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to this thought for which the normal person has such 
a feeling of horror. Now the epileptic shows in his 
whole life poor capacity for objectivating his emo- 
tions and clinically the most fundamental symptom 
is a clouding or loss of consciousness. Plainly, then, 
his life and his regression point to a relative purity 
of the "primary subjective state." He has never 
developed away from this phase with any complete- 
ness and he returns to it with alarming facility. 
According to Burrow's thesis, such an individual 
should have the greatest repugnance to incest and 
show the greatest capacity for "love." Yet he can 
entertain delusions of incest without evidence of any 
horror at the thought and is less capable of love, as 
that term is usually understood than any other clini- 
cal type we know about. Such considerations make 
the identification principle an impossible foundation 
for repression of the CEdipus fancy. 

There can be no doubt that the association of 
"knowledge" and "sin" in language and folklore 
must mean something. But words and myths, of 
their very nature, are social rather than individual 
in nature. Although there may be other explana- 
tions for the association this one seems plausible: 
social unity depends to a considerable degree on 
unanimity of thought and belief. New knowledge 
cannot be acquired except by the development of 
independent observation and thought. This upsets 
group traditions, hence "knowledge" as opposed to 
conventional belief is tabooed. This universal atti- 
tude is quite possibly reflected in the language and 
myths which Burrow quotes. 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 199 

An inconsistency in his argument appears in his 
confusion of narcissism and auto-erotism. This mis- 
take, so frequently made, has been discussed in a 
previous chapter, so need not be ventilated again. 
But in Burrow's case the error is the more serious 
as he succeeds in making the discrimination between 
the sexuality of suckling and the making of the 
mother at this stage into a sexual object. By ex- 
actly the same argument auto-erotism at this period 
is bound to be sexual in its nature without the self 
having such an existence as to make it a possible 
object. 

But in spite of all these defects Burrow must be 
given credit for adding to our psychological schemes 
two most fundamental principles — that of the pri- 
mary subjective state and that of primary identifi- 
cation, together with the corollary that they occur 
together. His analysis of the type of consciousness 
that must exist at this early period shows us why 
with loss of objectivity there must be a lessening of 
acuity of consciousness. This enables us to under- 
stand such phenomena as sleep and epilepsy much 
more clearly. 

The principle of identification is practically, thera- 
peutically, of wide application. Its meaning we are 
only beginning to grasp. It may explain, for in- 
stance, peculiar phenomena such as those of para- 
noia, when the patient has an uncanny faculty for 
reading the unconscious thought of his wife or 
friend, which he makes into a delusion by assuming 
it to be conscious. Any one who has worked inti- 
mately with paranoid conditions will be familiar with 



200 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

this peculiar gift — or curse. Folie a deux is, prob- 
ably, a phenomenon to be similarly explained. These 
are merely suggestions. We may find in this princi- 
ple a potent psychiatric weapon. 

For instance there is one wide spread phenomenon 
for which Burrow's work may furnish a dynamic 
explanation. Suggestibility is apt to be associated 
with a clouding or loss of normal consciousness. 
We see this in hypnosis, in sleep (more often in half- 
sleep, dozing states), occasionally in epilepsy and, 
perhaps, in the cataleptic symptoms of stupor. The 
mechanism of this is easily explained. Normal, con- 
scious, critical regard of the environment being lost 
or reduced, the flux of free associational thought 
may be guided or focused, as it were, by the dictate 
of another person. But the dynamic problem re- 
mains. Why should the voice or hand of another 
mean more to the subject than any other chance en- 
vironmental stimulus without this stimulus awaken- 
ing the subject to a realization of all the environ- 
ment? If, as Burrow says, subjectivity is associated 
with identification, we would expect a tendency for 
identification of thought to take place when objec- 
tivity (consciousness) was abandoned. The same 
process would then, at the same time, weaken inter- 
est in the environment and produce a longing for 
community of thinking. The goal of regression is 
reached; it is no longer necessary to think for one's 
self. 

But it is in the sphere of more normal human re- 
lationships that it probably has its widest applica- 
tion. Although love is a more complex matter than 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF 'BURROW 201 

Burrow seems to think, the striving for unity is cer- 
tainly a vital component in it. It has both good and 
bad implications and potentialities. Its favorable 
aspect is the only one he sees and, indeed, he allies 
it with the social tendency in general. This last sug- 
gestion he makes only once in these words : 

"It is but natural that having- come suddenly into the franchise 
of consciousness, man should employ his liberty of action in the 
wanton aims of personal satisfaction, or in the tedious propitia- 
tions of vicarious conformities. But there is something deeper 
still, more native to man, than all this. It is expressed in the 
social merging of personalities into each other in the pursuit of 
the common good. It is that quality in man that ever goads him 
to search and strive to the utmost benefit of the race. It is this 
quality of harmoniousness and unity inherent in the social aims 
of man that is, it seems to me, the strongest principle of 
man's consciousness. This it is that men have called love. This, 
it seems to me, is the true affirmation of life and its prototype 
is the harmonious principle of the preconscious." 

Of course in all this he is totally forgetting the ex- 
istence of herd instinct. 

On the other hand the desire for unity has its ma- 
lignant influences. It probably leads to more dis- 
harmony and conflict in marriage than is generally 
realized. This is not the open conflict where avowed 
antagonism exists but a struggle that is rationalized 
in the name of love. In a hypothetical condition of 
perfect unity, two people would think and act as one. 
This involves loss of individuality on one or both 
sides and in either event there is an internal rebel- 
lion against the sacrifice demanded, a rebellion that 
often crystallizes out into a neurosis or, at least, 
neurotic reactions. Many "successful" marriages 



202 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

are permanently happy as a result of one partner or 
the other making the sacrifice, an arrangement that 
leads to a fixation of domineering characteristics on 
the one hand and the development of a colorless per- 
sonality on the other. Usually in the struggle that 
precedes this solution the first one to develop neu- 
rotic manifestations gains the upper hand. In spite 
of the effort Burrow and others make to exalt the 
neurotic as the victim of too high ideals, the neu- 
rosis is usually a weapon forged and used for selfish 
ends. During the period of conflict sympathy for 
the partner appears only when the latter capitulates 
to pressure. Proof of love is held to be this identi- 
fication of interest or thought and when this proof 
is absent the difference of opinion is looked on as a 
sign of indifference or hostility. To extort sympa- 
thy the neurosis is fabricated. When this recourse 
is not had, through pride or inherent stability, mis- 
understandings are frequent and separations immi- 
nent or advisable. Yet all this is folly. The con- 
flict is due to basic unconscious revolt against real 
objective love — or to a false philosophy of what love 
is. The former type is found in people who are in- 
herently neurotic clinging to a subjective viewpoint, 
while the latter factor may operate among quite 
1 'normal" people. In this case the tendency to 
withdraw from objectivation, that is unconsciously 
present in all of us, may gain an outlet through this 
rationalization, this pseudo-philosophy which makes 
unity rather than reciprocity and partnership the 
essential of love. Particularly when the friction is 
largely a matter of false ideals, a little analysis and 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 203 

explanation of the "unity" as really a narcissistic 
affair may accomplish much to reestablish a totter- 
ing marriage. So this theory has a practical side. 
A dramatic example of how this tendency may 
produce complications may be briefly cited. A young 
woman had been throughout childhood highly imagi- 
native, a habit that persisted with such intensity 
that, when she was old enough to know better, her 
tales of adventure were safely to be characterized 
as lies. In her teens, however, she learned to con- 
trol her lust for story-telling. Striking dreams — 
she recalled them in detail even back to the age of 
seven — always were concerned with going to 
Heaven, up in pink clouds and so on, the description 
of which scenes were full of details belonging to the 
symbols of earliest life. "Love" to her was a melt- 
ing of two individuals into a common spirit. Shortly 
after meeting her future husband she dreamed sev- 
eral times of floating with him up through the sky 
each reading and thinking the other's thoughts. It 
was ecstatic. Almost immediately after marriage, 
she felt compelled to confess to her husband some 
isolated erotic irregularities in the past. He was 
rather shocked but forgave her. He questioned her 
further however, and in response she regressed at 
once to her old tendency for romance and began to 
elaborate her story with completely untrue details. 
His suspicions were aroused, he fancied he had not 
heard all that might have happened. More ques- 
tions and more fabrications. Very soon the poor 
wife was entangled in a web of damning deceit, com- 
pulsively manufacturing lurid tales about what had 



204 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

been a nearly spotless past. At the same time the 
husband (of rather unstable family stock) was de- 
veloping a definitely paranoid system of ideas. At 
first incredulous, he began to believe all the stories 
and to imagine other scandalous affairs in which she 
might have participated. He grew brutal in his in- 
terrogations. She became frightened at what she 
had done, tried to recant but with each effort only 
succeeded in evolving more horrible inventions. 
Like a true pathological liar when once started on a 
story she could not stop and for the time being be- 
lieved all she said. The ensuing tangle can readily 
be imagined. Neither was capable of independent 
judgment of the other. Each thought and felt that 
a difference of opinion or a shadow of reticence was 
indicative of indifference or distrust. They had to 
think as one. As a result when he suspected her, she 
felt compelled to agree with him and did so with 
pathological thoroughness. And whatever she said 
he found himself believing. Yet with a little ana- 
lytic assistance their difficulties were straightened 
out. She learned to discriminate between fact and 
fancy and maintain her position, while he soon fol- 
lowed with complete trust in her and belief in the 
rarity of her past derelictions. 

Unfortunately the "unity complex" does not con- 
fine its malign influence to husband and wife rela- 
tions. Parents are terribly prone to regard their 
children not as separate individuals with a right to 
independent opinions, principles and choice but as 
mere echoes of themselves. Compliance with the 
parents' viewpoint is then held to exemplify pious 



PRIMARY SUBJECTIVE PHASE OF BURROW 205 

love, while difference of outlook is resented and 
rationalized as wickedness. So common is this ten- 
dency that it is a rare adolescent who can escape 
from home to live his own life without his departure 
taking the form of rebellion. The weaker child, of 
course, goes to the wall and remains throughout life 
incapable of independent expression either intel- 
lectually or emotionally. Many a soul is sacrificed 
on the altar of "family life." 



PAET IV 

INSTINCTS AND THEIR CLASSIFICA- 
TION 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 

Urged probably by the materialistic drift of 
modern philosophy, psychologists have, for a gen- 
eration, been attempting to bridge over the gap be- 
tween body. and mind, abandoning the older methods 
of metaphysics and introspection. Conceiving men- 
tal processes as the physiology of the brain they 
have been unwilling to accept psychic phenomena as 
definite entities but have endeavored to reduce them 
to terms of such physical processes as can be weighed 
and measured. Wundt, an unsuccessful physiologist, 
was largely responsible for this new line of attack 
and he left a legacy to psychologists (particularly in 
America) which has been expended in tireless re- 
search into the physiology of the special senses. 
Although much valuable material has been the re- 
turn on this investment, it has not brought us nearer 
to an understanding of man as a unit organism, 
which is psychology. In fact one leader of ' ' experi- 
mental psychology" has been honest enough to de- 
clare that the object of the science of psychology is 
to eliminate "mind." 

Another attempt at "physiologizing" psychology 
has been the invocation of the involuntary nervous 
system to account for instinctive and emotional re- 

209 



210 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

actions. The James-Lange hypothesis is one of the 
early examples. Cannon and his school have done 
most excellent critical work in this field, yet Cannon 
is forced to admit that, although he can demonstrate 
bodily effects of several emotions, he can find noth- 
ing specific in these effects. The differentiation re- 
mains psychological. So far as his work goes, the 
discovery of the physical basis of the emotions is 
rendered more remote. The findings which it had 
been hoped would show the physiology of the emo- 
tions have added to physiological lore and left psy- 
chology where it was. The recent publications of 
Kempf represent the most strenuous efforts to 
bridge the gap. It seems, however, that he has 
merely translated psychological terms into those of 
conditioned reflexes, a type of exercise which Adolf 
Meyer stigmatized once and for all as "neurologiz- 
ing tautology. ' ' x 

A third group, the behaviorists, have attempted to 
prove that thought is an illusion, that we are simply 
aware of muscular movements and that the laws of 
psychology are the laws of reflexes. Their experi- 
ments with animals and children have greatly ad- 
vanced our knowledge but their theories are shot 
through with grave logical fallacies. It is impossi- 
ble to discuss psychological phenomena in other than 
psychological terms ; the mind is in a separate cate- 
gory from that of the body. It is as idle to seek for 

* Since Kempf has added little to psychoanalytic theory as such, 
no criticism of his work will be attempted in this book. The physio- 
logical aspects have been well discussed by Thatcher in the Inter- 
national Journal of Psychoanalysis, Vol. II, p. 237. 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 211 

the specific origin of mental phenomena in specific 
physiological processes as it is to look for the origin 
of the electro-conductivity of a salt solution in the 
properties of water or salt. When they combine in 
solution new properties arise that can be discussed 
only in terms of a special science, physical chemis- 
try. Similarly when the organism functions as a 
whole we get ''mind" and mental phenomena can be 
discussed only in terms of what is mental, not in 
terms of the functions of isolated organs or groups 
of organs of the body. 1 

On the other hand mental processes unquestion- 
ably depend on the integrity of the nervous system 
and somehow or other they have developed with the 
evolution of the central nervous system. Funda- 
mentally some parallelism must exist. Psychology 
is a biological science and, therefore, must be sub- 
ject to biological laws. Consequently any system 
of psychology must rest at bottom on certain laws 
analogous to those of biology or else the system is 
wrong or the biology wrong. Biology being an older, 
more tested, science it is safe to assume reliability 
for its more fundamental tenets. It is natural, there- 
fore, to test the validity of any new psychological 
theory by looking to see if it be biologically sound. 
Psychoanalysis has escaped the pitfalls described 
above by treating objectively, but as purely mental, 
the most dynamic factors in mental life. But are its 
hypotheses biologically sound? 

Any book which makes anything like a serious at- 

1 For further discussion of this problem see MacCurdy, ' ' Psychiatry 
and 'Scientific Psychology,' " Mental Hygiene, Vol. V, No. 2. 



212 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

tempt to answer this question is an important con- 
tribution. Rivers ' work * is, however, doubly im- 
portant in that he not only raises this problem and 
in part answers it but also opens for discussion a 
series of most stimulating problems. He does not 
call his book a discussion of psychoanalysis but in 
effect it is, since his central theme is an unconscious 
distinctly of the kind which Freud describes and with 
which the latter 's name will always be associated. 
One should bear in mind that Rivers has established 
his position as a scientist by important work in 
physiology, neurology, psychology and, particularly, 
ethnology. When, during the war, his attention was 
drawn to the war neuroses he approached their 
study not with a background of psychopathological 
training but with a wide experience in the biological 
sciences and extensive familiarity with scientific 
method. 

Discussion and criticism of his work is difficult. 
It is too important to pass over with a mere state- 
ment of his general conclusions, while it is impossi- 
ble to present his arguments adequately and criticize 
them fully in one chapter. It is therefore hoped 
that the reader will refer to the original text, which 
justifies close study. Perhaps it may be best to 
digest and criticize each chapter separately. Inci- 
dental, unimportant comments will occasionally be 
inserted in square brackets. 

His first chapter is introductory. His aim is to 
consider the mechanism of neuroses in their relation 

1 ' ' Instinct and the Unconscious, " by W. H. R. Rivers, Cambridge 
University Press, 1920. 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 213 

to biological reactions with an attempt to show that 
psychoneuroses represent a solution of conflict be- 
tween opposed and incompatible principles of men- 
tal activity. 

In Chapters II and III he deals with definitions. 
If he had written nothing but these chapters it would 
make his publication worth while, not because his 
definitions are necessarily final in their accuracy 
but because he attempts to do what has never been 
done in psychoanalysis, the lack of which has brought 
such confusion into the writings of Freud and his 
followers. The unconscious he defines as a deep 
level of mental activity which is brought into con- 
sciousness only in dreams, abnormal states and by 
special psychological technique. He definitely elimi- 
nates mental experience which is not in conscious- 
ness but may be brought there by focusing the atten- 
tion. He also excludes from this category material 
which appears in consciousness without one knowing 
why he has thought of it. He prefers not to say 
that the subject is unconscious of the mode of its 
appearance but rather that such phenomena are 
unwitting. For instance, one person may unwit- 
tingly suggest one thing to another. Suppression 
is a process by which experience becomes uncon- 
scious. It is never the result of conscious volition. 
When one excludes anything from consciousness by 
an effort of will the process is one of repression. 
Repression leads over into suppression only when 
conditions favorable for the latter are present. 

His choice of the term "suppression" is unfortu- 
nate because general usage has given it a flavor of 



214 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

annihilation rather than of keeping in abeyance. It 
would have been better if Rivers had kept the term 
"repression" for this and found another for what 
he calls * ' repression. ' ' His concept of ' ' repression ' ' 
is open to criticism but this will be postponed till 
later when the topic is more fully discussed. Al- 
though I do not accept these terms, Rivers' usage 
will be adopted throughout this chapter to avoid 
confusion. 

In Chapter IV he considers the analogies existing 
between the psychological principle of suppression 
and what is known as inhibition in biology. The 
first comparison is with the inhibition of elements of 
protopathic sensibilty when epicritic sensibility is 
restored. When the former type exists alone local- 
ization is massive, the sensation may radiate over a 
large field or be referred by the subject to quite a 
distant area. This radiation and reference disap- 
pear when the discriminative, epicritic, sensibility is 
developed. He thinks there is a similar inhibition 
occurring when, in a protopathic area, the presence 
of temperature sensation may prevent a pain stimu- 
lus from being appreciated. 1 The central cortex 
exercises epicritic-like inhibition over thalamic sen- 
sibility, for the affective aspects of the latter appear 
in exaggerated form when the former is removed. 
On the efferent side he cites similar phenomena in 
the mass reflexes which are liberated in man and 
animals when the spinal cord is isolated from the 
brain. These are racial inhibitions or suppressions 
presumably recapitulated in individual development. 

1 His description of the phenomenon will be quoted later. 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 215 

Only those entities are suppressed that are elements 
of experience (psychological) or of behavior (phys- 
iological) incompatible with later, more refined and 
discriminatory developments. Other elements fuse 
with what is compatible in the later specializations 
to form higher functions. Rivers uses the term 
"unconscious" to include material only of the first 
order, that is, whatever is incompatible. 

This comparison of neurological with psycho- 
logical function is probably the most important sin- 
gle contribution in Rivers ' book. It not only enables 
us to understand suppression but makes it seem 
inevitable that suppression should occur in the 
psychological as in the neurological field. At the 
same time it is unfortunate that Rivers should have 
chosen for one of his first examples of suppression 
in the physiological field a phenomenon not only 
unconfirmed by other observers but also one that 
can better be interpreted as a psychic than as a neu- 
rological affair. This is his claim that the presence 
of a temperature stimulus may inhibit a pain im- 
pulse. The experiment was this, in Rivers' words: 

"On the normal skin stimulation by a temperature of 40° C- 
44°C. produces a pleasant sensation of heat free from any ele- 
ment of pain, and this effect was present on the dorsum of Head's 
thumb after epicritic sensibility had returned. The index knuckle 
lingered in its recovery behind the thumb, so that at one stage of 
the experiment when epicritic sensibility was present on the 
thumb, it was still absent on the index knuckle. At this time 
stimulation of the knuckle by cold produced a referred sensation 
of cold on the dorsum of the thumb. When the two regions were 
stimulated simultaneously, the thumb by a stimulus of 40°C.-44°C. 
and the index knuckle by cold, the two temperature sensations on 



216 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the thumb neutralized one another and a third mode of sensation, 
one of pain, appeared. The observation is most naturally inter- 
preted by the supposition that when a temperature sensation is 
present, any painful element is suppressed. Though the pain 
was localized on the thumb, it may have belonged either to the 
heat sensation due to direct stimulation of this region or to the 
referred cold." 

The type of "pain" is not described. Now pain, 
particularly in its minor grades is an intensely sub- 
jective phenomenon. Some authors think that "hot" 
which cannot be distinguished from intense cold is 
due to simultaneous stimulation by heat- and cold- 
spots. If this view were sound one might imagine 
that the perception here experienced was merely this 
composite "thermal pain" feeling. In this case 
the product would be one of fusion, not of suppres- 
sion. Or the subjective realization may have been 
one of discomfort due to incapacity to focus atten- 
tion either on warmth or coolness. The painful 
quality of tickling probably has this, purely psycho- 
logical origin. In either event it is difficult to see 
how there is any "suppression" here for pain is not 
produced by the ranges of temperature stimuli em- 
ployed in this experiment, either when they are ap- 
plied to the normal skin or to a regenerating area. 
It is unlikely, therefore, that either the cold or 
warmth had been inhibiting a painful response. 
The latter was a new creation. But even if we 
assume that the warmth, for example, was a quality 
which kept a latent pain stimulus from being per- 
ceived (it is impossible to express these ideas except 
in psychological terms) is this an example of "sup- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 217 

pression" as Rivers defines that term? If so the 
temperature sensation would be a later, more dis- 
criminative development incompatible with a primi- 
tive pain sense, which is nowhere claimed. Moreover 
by defining the unconscious as that which manifests 
itself only in dreams, abnormal states or under spe- 
cial .technique, he is stressing the permanent nature 
of the suppression. When protopathic elements are 
inhibited by epicritic the former reappear only un- 
der pathological circumstances. The disappearance 
of protopathic pain sensation when a temperature 
stimulus is given means merely that under proto- 
pathic conditions both pain and heat stimuli below 
45° C. may not be registered at the same time. This 
is an example of inhibition, if you will, but not of the 
kind of inhibition of which Rivers is writing. It 
would be better to speak of this as an alternation of 
function. There are many examples of this. For 
instance we do not chew and swallow at the same 
time except with great effort. When we begin to 
swallow we cease chewing. But we have not lost the 
power to chew, that function is momentarily in 
abeyance while the muscles involved are engaged in 
another series of coordinated movements. Riddoch 1 
found that this occurs even with the isolated spinal 
cord. The coitus reflex "inhibited" the urination 
reflex. In neither case has chewing nor urination 
become "unconscious." It is simply the impossi- 
bility of using the same organs at the same time for 
two different purposes. 

1 ' ' The Reflex Functions of the Completely Divided Spinal Cord in 
Man." Brain, Vol. 40, 1917. 



218 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

In the psychological field this alternation of func- 
tion is determined by an alternation of attention. 
We react to whatever in the environment we are 
giving our attention but to other stimuli we are 
inert. If I am looking for a taxi I scrutinize each 
motor that comes down the street and finally signal 
one of them. But if I intend to walk I am indifferent 
to all motors and could not say after one had passed 
whether it had been there or not. This difference of 
behavior in the latter instance involves no loss of my 
capacity to see or recognize a taxi. I have not sup- 
pressed the capacity. I simply have given no atten- 
tion to motors of any kind. Similarly the chauffeur, 
while driving, sees many things in the traffic which 
modify his behavior but when walking he may be 
quite unaware of them and remain unaffected by 
them. If, on the other hand, his capacity for watch- 
ing traffic were truly suppressed he would become 
incapable of driving. We shall see that Rivers has 
largely vitiated his work by frequently confusing 
true suppression with alternation of attention. 

In Chapter V he begins an inquiry as to what the 
unconscious mind contains. From analogy with the 
neurological parallels and from clinical examples 
(which mainly or entirely have to do with fear) he 
concludes that suppression is directed against 
affective experience or intellectual experience which 
has a strong emotional coloring. The affect is a 
painful one. With these experiences others con- 
nected with them by association may also be sup- 
pressed, so that the unconscious may contain neutral 
as well as affective experience. 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 219 

The next question is the biological nature of the 
suppressed material. He rejects Freud's concept 
of the wish because it is derived from consciousness 
and prefers to follow the scheme of Shand and 
McDougall, which allies affect and instinct. If the 
content of the unconscious be affective, it should by 
the same token be instinctive. "It is thus suggested 
that there is the closest relation between the uncon- 
scious and instinct, that the unconscious is a store- 
house of experience associated with instinctive re- 
actions. Moreover, I have shown that suppression, 
the process by which the conscious becomes uncon- 
scious, itself takes place unwittingly. The question 
arises how far the unwitting character of a process 
is a mark of instinct and is associated with instinc- 
tive reactions." This leads him naturally to discus- 
sion of the nature of instincts. 

But before following him in this it may be well to 
pause and examine the nature of the argument he 
is making. In the first place his examples of sup- 
pressed material have to do with fear. His only 
clinical experience has been with the war neuroses 
in which that was naturally the most prominent emo- 
tion. He eliminated Freud's term of "wish" as 
being too conscious, forgetting that, except for its 
unfortunately voluntary coloring it has no theoretic, 
biological implications. It is merely a label. By 
adopting the Shand-McDougall hypothesis, however, 
he has involved himself in the acceptance of some- 
thing it is very hard to prove — the specific associa- 
tion of certain affects with certain instincts. This 
uncritical acceptance does not do any serious damage 



220 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

to his thesis so long as he confines his attention to 
such primitive reactions as those of danger where 
an association with fear is easy to demonstrate. 
But the finer shades of emotion that are the most 
important for us in our daily lives (outside dra- 
matic emergencies) are not associated so obviously 
with instincts that can be easily demonstrated. In 
other words Rivers is gently preparing the way for 
a psychology of danger reactions which may appear 
to be a psychology of all emotional reactions. He 
has fallen into the error of practically all psycholo- 
gists, who when they wish to study emotions, con- 
fined their research to fear and then assume their 
findings to have universal application. 

In Chapter VI he takes up first the discriminations 
that have been attempted between instinct and in- 
telligence. The term is used so loosely by many psy- 
chopathologists that it is refreshing to read some- 
thing really critical on this subject. The differentia- 
tion cannot be made, he says, on the basis of human 
as opposed to animal behavior, because men show 
unreasoning reactions and many animals have been 
demonstrated to be capable of just that mental be- 
havior which we are accustomed to look on as 
intellectual. Similarly, a physiological discrimi- 
nation on the basis of cortical and subcortical 
localization of their functions does not hold, or 
at least remains unproved. Further, even if it could 
not be demonstrated, it is plain that this differentia- 
tion would not be practicable in psychology. The 
best biological comparison is between what is innate 
and what is acquired, but this does not help us 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 221 

where we need greatest assistance, namely, in con- 
sidering the behavior of higher animals and men 
where it is often impossible to distinguish between 
the innate and the acquired. He therefore con- 
cludes that it is necessary to analyze instincts, in 
an effort to determine their psychological character- 
istics. This may be done by comparing the men- 
tality of man as opposed to that of animals, and of 
adults as opposed to infants. 

He finds three characteristics to appear when this 
comparison is made. Instinctive reactions tend to 
follow the all-or-none law; the reaction is unreflec- 
tive and, finally, the nature of the response is imme- 
diate or uncontrolled. The all-or-none law is best 
demonstrated in a nerve impulse, which is the same 
no matter what the strength of the stimulus may be, 
provided this latter be adequate. Protopathic phe- 
nomena also tend to follow this law. For instance 
the sensation of cold is " roughly the same" for 
stimuli ranging from 0° C. to 20° C. Heart muscle 
and the mass reflex have similar behavior. Fech- 
ner's formula (sensation is proportional to the 
logarithm of this stimulus) does not hold strictly for 
affective phenomena. It is only when instinctive 
reactions are overlaid with experience (intellectual 
or "epicritic" development) that proportional re- 
sponse appears at all. 

These three characteristics hold for the instinctive 
behavior of man but not for many invertebrates 
(ants, bees, etc.) when what seems to be instinctive 
behavior is characterized by discrimination and 
graduation of response. 



222 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

In Chapter VII he divides instincts into three 
groups, those of self-preservation (appetites and 
danger instincts) ; of preservation of the race (sex 
and parental instincts with the tender emotions) ; 
and the herd instinct (suggestion, sympathy, intui- 
tion and imitation). No definite lines, however, 
form the boundaries between these three groups. 

It may be remarked at this point that this is a 
convenient, workable classification. But to make 
proper use of it one should assign all instinctive 
processes to one or another group or to the combined 
action of different groups. This Rivers does only 
in part and leaves discussion of the sex instincts 
quite untouched ! The value of the classification for 
psychopathological purposes therefore remains un- 
demonstrated. 

He proceeds with a discussion of the danger in- 
stincts. There are five types of reaction to danger: 
flight, aggression, what he calls "manipulative ac- 
tivity," immobility and collapse. Manipulative ac- 
tivity is a complex response to a complex situation 
such as the maneuvering and discharge of his 
weapon by the hunter, the unreflective operations of 
the aviator, etc. The simians also have this instinc- 
tive reaction, he thinks. Collapse is usually accom- 
panied by coarse tremors or convulsive jerkings that 
would nullify the effect of concealment obtained by 
perfect immobility. Rivers thinks it particularly 
likely to occur when one of the other instinctive 
reactions is frustrated of completion. 

The emotional states accompanying these reac- 
tions furnish Rivers with the central data of his 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 223 

theories. He says that fear accompanies flight, 
although admitting that the evidence is inconclusive 
and that fear is most likely to develop with impeded 
flight. Anger is the affect with aggression. On the 
other hand there is absence of affect with manipula- 
tive activity. The fear which one would expect has 
been suppressed, he claims, because it may reappear 
later in a dream of the same dangerous incident. 
Further the absence of pain from stimuli acting 
during the crisis which would normally cause pain 
is further proof of the suppression. Pain and fear 
are also not found with immobility, another example 
of suppression. Finally terror is. the regular ac- 
companiment of collapse, being a product of frus- 
trated activity. 

With the last statement one can agree unquali- 
fiedly but each of the others is open to question. It 
is customary, of course, to associate fear and flight 
although we have no evidence to prove it. As to its 
existence in animals we can naturally have neither 
proof nor disproof. They cannot tell us and we can 
observe these actions closely only when their flight 
is prevented or retarded so that the frustration re- 
action appears. In man whenever fear appears 
flight or the thought of flight is invariably unsuc- 
cessful. Whenever a man fears he is invariably 
thinking of failure in his efforts to escape the danger 
or abolish it. On the other hand, if he directs his 
whole attention to the circumvention of the danger — 
in other words, if he indulges in what Rivers calls 
manipulative activity, he feels no fear. This is a 
phenomenon of attention; our reactions, both sen- 



224 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sory and motor, depend on that to which we give 
attention. As to the reappearance of the " sup- 
pressed fear" in a dream, I would take issue here 
on a point of fact. It is my opinion that when an 
individual relives with accuracy in a dream an ex- 
citing adventure in which no fear was felt, there 
is again no fear in the dream. What we do find is 
that a different outcome is dramatized in the dream. 
For instance an aviator after a successful combat 
may dream of encounter under similar circumstances 
of the same opponent. But now it is he, the dreamer, 
who is, or is going to be shot down. In the dream 
attention is given to the immanence or possibility 
of destruction. In the actual encounter there is no 
thought given to the chance of failure but only to 
what should be done. In other words the situation 
is not looked on as one of danger but as an 
emergency. The absence of pain is similarly a phe- 
nomenon of attention. The individual is thinking 
solely of how he shall meet the emergency, or, in 
some cases, his attention is wholly given to the nov- 
elty of the situation. When a man does not feel the 
nail in his shoe as he runs to catch a train, he has 
not suppressed the pain, he simply does not think 
of it. Similarly if two noxious stimuli are applied 
to the same region of the body, we can feel pain only 
from that which is more intense. We can only attend 
to one pain at a time. The second, greater stimulus, 
has not suppressed the first, it simply has engrossed 
the attention. If it suppressed it, according to 
Rivers' original definition, the first pain could only 
reappear under abnormal circumstances, but instead 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 225 

of that it reappears so soon as the second stimulus 
is withdrawn. 1 

The absence of fear and pain with immobility is a 
most important link in Rivers' argument since he 
later bases his theory of hysteria on this, alleged, 
suppression. It is important for animals who adopt 
immobility to do it perfectly hence absence of fear 
and pain (which might lead to movement) are neces- 
sary. But so far as fear is concerned, is it not just 
as simple to assume that they practice indifference 
as that they develop an emotion and then suppress 
it? If immobility be a fundamental reaction, as 
Rivers assumes, why should it have any affect at- 
tached to it? Why should it not be an essentially 
negative reaction throughout? In fact one might 
assume that it is so fundamental that it goes back to 
an evolutionary period preceding that when affect 
appeared at all. But these are pure speculations. 
Animals cannot tell us what they are feeling or 
thinking. Men can. In the pathological state known 
as stupor we find the closest analogue to the immo- 
bility reaction of animals. In it the central symp- 
toms are inactivity and apathy. A large amount of 
evidence 2 leaves little reason to doubt that interest 
and attention are withdrawn from the environment 

1 Although not an essential part of the argument one cannot let go 
unchallenged the statement that manipulative activity is an in- 
stinctive reaction in the ordinary sense of the term. It is definitely 
an acquired thing, it is no more unreflective than is any rapid activ- 
ity, it is highly discriminative and response is far from uncon- 
trolled. It does not live up to a single one of Rivers' characteristics 
of instinct. That self-preservation motivates manipulative activity 
is self-evident; but that is quite another matter. 

a Hoeh, ' ' Benign Stupors. ' ' 



226 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

— totally so when the reaction is complete. There 
is then complete inactivity, complete absence of evi- 
dence of pain and both objectively and subjectively 
in retrospect, no affect of any kind. On the other 
hand in another psychopathic reaction, depression, 
there is good evidence for repression producing 
such inactivity as exists and accompanying this 
there is intense affect. The reaction of immobility 
may therefore be looked on more satisfactorily as a 
phenomenon of attention than of suppression. 

At this point Rivers suggests that suppression is 
basically an immobility reaction and later assumes 
it to be so. It is therefore worth while to examine 
the claim carefully. Even if the argument alleging 
attention in place of suppression be unsound, there 
is a more fundamental objection to this hypothesis. 
Suppression produces the content of the unconscious. 
This remains in the unconscious except under abnor- 
mal circumstances. But as Rivers points out a 
number of times the immobility reaction is only one 
of a number of possible reactions to danger. The 
animal may. suddenly alternate inactivity with flight. 
If it had "suppressed" muscular movements how 
could they appear again so easily f This is an exam- 
ple of alternate function (alternate attention psy- 
chologically) not of suppression. 

As a matter of fact alternating function is the 
exact analogue of what Rivers calls "repression," 
i.e., a conscious process of excluding one reaction or 
one thought in order to take up another. This point 
is discussed again in the criticism of the "Repres- 
sion Neurosis." The kind of suppression which 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 227 

Eivers' definition of the unconscious demands must 
be permanent, a continuing, rather than a tempo- 
rary, process. To me, at least, this seems possible 
only as result of a conflict that persists between per- 
manent incompatibilities. We should therefore look 
for the origin of suppression in the coincident opera- 
tion of opposing instincts — that is if we assume sup- 
pression to be instinctive, as we well may. Trotter * 
long ago made the fundamental claim that sex and 
self preservation did not tend to operate concur- 
rently but alternately so that no serious conflict 
could arise between them. But, as he pointed out, 
the herd instincts do operate (or motivate) con- 
currently with either of the other two. We should 
therefore look to herd instinct for the origin of 
suppression. As to conflicts between instincts of 
different orders Rivers has very little to say. 

Whether anger is a necessary accompaniment of 
aggression or whether it may be an affect appearing 
only with ineffective aggression is a question to 
answer which we have not so much evidence as in 
the case of fear and flight. One slaps at a fly quite 
equably and remains calm if the fly is killed. But 
if the fly eludes destruction and continues to buzz 
around irritability appears. Again a frustrated 
activity. But this anger reaction is not essential to 
Rivers' argument so we need not tarry longer 
with it. 

In the next chapter he considers how far the all- 
or-none principle is found in the instinctive reac- 

1 ' ' Instincts of the Herd in Peace and in War, ' ' London, Fisher 
Unwin Co., 1919. 



228 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

tions just discussed. Flight and anger reactions 
follow it or tend to do so. Immobility must be an 
all-or-none affair while manipulative activity is 
largely so. [This last seems a strange statement. 
Manipulative activity that ceased for a moment to be 
discriminative and controlled would at once become 
flight, aggression or immobility.] When forgetting 
is an active process (i.e., suppression) memory is 
either present or absent, but there are gradations in 
the difficulty of recall. Hence suppression does not 
follow the all-or-none principle completely except, 
perhaps in childhood. It may therefore be pre- 
sumed that in the course of development suppression 
has become capable of gradation, just as certain ele- 
ments of protopathic sensibility have been shown by 
Head to fuse with the developing epicritic and so 
attain discriminative function. 

The ninth chapter deals with biological analogies 
to the process of suppression. Man probably inher- 
ited his most normal reaction to danger — manipula- 
tive activity — from his arboreal ancestors. If the 
early simians had not already had the capacity for 
suppression developed, if they had not been able to 
suppress with ease their terrestrial reactions when 
they took to the trees, this change in mode of life 
would have been disastrous. But the more primi- 
tive reactions to danger must have already de- 
manded a suppression capacity for the alternative 
behavior of flight and immobility found in much less 
specialized animals. In fact the most fundamental 
and far-reaching suppressions must be present in 
animals which undergo metamorphoses in the course 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 229 

of their development. For instance the moth must 
suppress reactions appropriate to the caterpillar, 
the frog must breathe and move himself in a totally 
different way from the tadpole. Reappearance of 
the habits peculiar to the earlier phase would be 
fatal in the second. Suppression in man involves 
perpetuation in the unconscious. As an example 
of something similar in a lower form of life, he 
cites the case of a butterfly returning to a special 
plant to lay its egg, presuming that it carries latently 
an attraction to the plant on which it developed as 
a caterpillar. 

This chapter is highly important. The examples 
from the changing reactions of animals are not valid, 
as we have seen; but the analogy with metamor- 
phosis is suggestive. It tempts one to the generali- 
zation that suppression is a process whereby earlier 
thoughts, or modes of thought, are eliminated from 
consciousness when development leads to adapta- 
tions, or the preponderance of instincts, that are 
incompatible with the former mental activity. 

In the following chapters Rivers applies his prin- 
ciples to a study of separate psychological and psy- 
chopathological phenomena. 

The first of them is dissociation, which he points 
out is not used in the neurological sense of one func- 
tion isolated or eliminated by disease but in its 
psychological meaning of a process by which experi- 
ence is separated from normal consciousness and re- 
mains active. An example of this is the fugue. Mor- 
ton Prince has coined the term of "co-conscious- 
ness" as a label for such mental processes as have 



230 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

independent existence during the fugue and pre- 
sumably are latent during the normal periods ; simi- 
larly the normal consciousness is presumed to be 
co-conscious during the fugue. Rivers rejects this 
terminology because he thinks these presumptions 
are not backed by sufficient evidence in these cases 
to justify the inevitable implication of a separate 
consciousness, of which the subject is at the mo- 
ment unaware. He admits this to be proved only in 
such cases of multiple personality as Morton Prince 
has described with Miss Beauchamp. So he limits 
the term "dissociation" to experience separated and 
having independent consciousness, which he terms 
1 1 alternate consciousness. ' ' 

Suppression can exist without dissociation. As an 
example of this the activity known as night terrors 
or nightmares may show no evidence of diurnal 
operation, even when the subject is exposed to grave 
danger. The fear reaction keeps recurring in 
dreams alone. [This sounds like the uncritical ac- 
ceptance of a patient's statement. Others' experi- 
ence would not confirm it. Nevertheless the dis- 
crepancy between diurnal and nocturnal fear is 
striking. It is to be accounted for, as above, by a 
change of attention.] Another example of suppres- 
sion not leading to dissociation is the disappearance 
from consciousness of experience of early childhood 
which reappears in character formation. This is 
brought about by a process of fusion, analogous to 
that of certain elements of protopathic sensibility 
which may fuse with the super-added epicritic. 

Again, a suppressed memory of a fearful experi- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 231 

ence which produces phobias is not dissociated, be- 
cause we have no evidence of a separate conscious- 
ness. When fear does occur, the suppression is in- 
complete, the idea tending to appear but the affect 
only doing so. The affect boils over, as it were. 

For the psychological process of dissociation, he 
finds biological analogies in the dissociation of life 
in water and on land of the amphibians. These two 
environments demand kinds of behavior so differ- 
ent that the mental processes while on land must 
imply a complete dissociation by the water reac- 
tions and vice versa. There must be alternate con- 
sciousness. Man probably went through such a stage 
in his phylogenetic development and then acquired 
the capacity for dissociation. Later he changed from 
land to arboreal life gradually with integration of 
the two types of reaction. The ability to switch 
from one line of interest or activity to another is 
an epicritic-like modification of this primitive dis- 
sociation tendency. The keeping of ideas in logic- 
tight compartments (e.g., science and religion) is 
more related to true dissociation. This imperfect 
integration is characteristic of many delusional 
states. [Quite true.] 

Serious objection may be made to Eivers' inter- 
pretation of what dissociation means. Criticism 
centers around his elimination of Prince's term of 
" co-consciousness." In his desire to be cautious 
he has been entrapped in loose thinking. If he is 
to deny consciousness to dissociated mental 
processes, he should define what he means by con- 
sciousness, but curiously enough he nowhere at- 



232 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

tempts this definition in his book. By analogy one 
might presume that he considers consciousness to be 
an epicritic-like development. If so, there is more 
evidence of this in the behavior of many " com- 
plexes," than there is in that of most amphibia, 
whose lives, he claims, show perfect dissociation and 
alternate consciousness. If the amphibian has con- 
sciousness, the latent "complex" must have it too. 
It must therefore be "co-conscious." 

Another definition which would suit his general 
argument is that consciousness exists when the body 
of experience or mental processes in question shows 
a capacity for recognition of a stimulus to which 
it responds. For instance the land reactions of the 
frog have consciousness in this sense when they re- 
spond to an appropriate stimulus. This amounts to 
a capacity for independent reaction. Now if we ac- 
cept this definition — and, if Rivers should not, his 
entire system would fall to pieces — alternate con- 
sciousness implies co-consciousness. If, for instance, 
there is not some kind of consciousness uniting the 
reactions of the fugue state while the subject is still 
normal, the fugue could never be called into being. 
If the only consciousness in existence were the nor- 
mal one, nothing but normal reactions would ever 
occur. Similarly, let us consider the case of the 
suppressed memory of a fearful event which pro- 
duces a phobia. In the presence of a suitable stimu- 
lus the memory is stimulated and the organism as a 
whole responds with an exhibtion of fear. The ac- 
tual memory does not come into awareness, it is true, 
but objectively, there is as much evidence of con- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 233 

sciousness attaching to the memory as there is in any 
reaction of an amphibian. The fact of the matter is 
that psychologists and psychopathologists have for 
years been using the term consciousness in two 
senses, one of subjective awareness and the other of 
stimulability. Until Morton Prince produced his 
term of co-consciousness, we had no discrimination 
in our terminology for these difficult concepts. Now 
we have: consciousness is subjective awareness; co- 
consciousness is capacity for specific reaction with- 
out subjective awareness. These terms are purely 
human. We still need a third to cover the " con- 
sciousness" of the animals who cannot tell us of 
what they are thinking. Will the students of animal 
psychology give us one? Until they do, we shall 
probably have to be content with "consciousness," 
remembering that it implies neither the existence nor 
the absence of subjective awareness. 

Of course Rivers is too logical to make such mis- 
takes as these, were they not connected with other 
details of his theory. We shall see that his an- 
tagonism to "co-consciousness" is justified. If he 
adapted this term and concept, if he assigned any 
form of consciousness to "complexes" in general his 
interpretation of hysteria would explode. 

Chapter XI deals with the "complex" which he 
defines as affective experience or body of experience 
unconscious but capable of influencing behavior. [As 
we have just seen the latter characteristic implies 
co-consciousness.] He objects to Bernard Hart's 
wider use of the term including conscious constella- 
tions of ideas. These, he says, correspond more 



234 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

closely to the "sentiments" of the academic psy- 
chologists. 

His criticism of loose usage of the term "com- 
plex" is warranted and Hart is not the only culprit. 
On the other hand there is a certain pragmatic jus- 
tification for this looseness, since in most cases 
analysis reveals a true complex (i.e., something not 
in subjective awareness) underlying the purely con- 
scious "sentiment." But, as the latter may be a 
distorted expression of the former, it is not right to 
label the complex until it has been demonstrated. 
For instance a political antipathy may be based ulti- 
mately on antagonism to the father which is uncon- 
scious. The former is a sentiment, the latter a com- 
plex. That does not justify calling the hatred for 
some politician a complex. 

In Chapter XII he analyzes suggestion and relates 
it to herd instinct. These are important elements 
in his general argument. McDougall has classified 
the elements of herd instinct as follows : on the cog- 
nitive side there is suggestion, on the affective sym- 
pathy and on the conative imitation. "If I were to 
use suggestion as a term for the cognitive aspect of 
the gregarious instinct, I should prefer to define 
it as the process which makes every member of the 
group aware of what is passing in the minds of the 
other members of the group." He prefers, how- 
ever, not to use suggestion as a cognitive aspect of 
herd instinct but in a broader sense as the process 
by which one mind acts on another unwittingly. It 
is its unwitting character which allies it with the 
unconsciousness and hence with instinct. Imitation 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 235 

may be purely a conscious process, so he uses 
mimesis for the unwitting form of imitation. Sym- 
pathy is generally recognized as unwitting, so no 
new term is needed for this, but he thinks intuition 
is the best term for unwitting recognition of cognitive 
activities in the mind of another person. Mimesis 
sympathy and intuition would then make up sugges- 
tion. He thus makes suggestion equivalent to herd 
instinct and says its function is to produce harmony 
of action in the group. This harmony is more com- 
plete than that attained by intellectual methods. Of 
this he gives some excellent examples from personal 
observation of Melanesians. What we call "tact" is 
an example in our own civilization. Another 
example he thinks is the ability we all possess to 
guide ourselves or our vehicles through traffic, al- 
ways recognizing without conscious efforts what the 
movements of others will be. [This last is probably 
more of an habitual intellectual operation. Cats 
have it to a far higher degree than dogs, though cats 
are solitary animals.] 

Before discussing his views as to the interaction of 
suggestion and other instincts, we should pause to 
consider what Rivers has done so far. In the first 
place is he justified, biologically, in allying sugges- 
tion exclusively with the herd instinct? From an 
evolutionary standpoint it seems probable that long 
before herd fife existed a high degree of cooperation 
between individuals must have been developed in 
connection with sex activities. This cooperation is 
essential for mating even quite low in the animal 
scale, while with any kind of family life the mother 



236 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

and offspring must show a good deal of harmony, 
else the latter will perish. The evidence of sex oper- 
ating in human suggestion need not be discussed 
here. Neither determination excludes the other, nor 
should it be made to do so even by implication. 

What warrant is there for making suggestion 
equivalent to herd instinct or its only manifesta- 
tion? This makes the instinct operate only in the 
presence of others and thus eliminates from consid- 
eration its motivating power — the desire to think 
and behave as others do, which acts through imagi- 
nation when there are no companions. This, of 
course, is one of Trotter's great contributions — the 
individual operation of the herd instinct. It is this 
makes internal conflict not merely an incident but a 
permanency. 

He proceeds to discuss the interaction of sugges- 
tion and the danger instincts. He finds suggestion 
of particular value in connection with immobility 
because with this reaction there cannot be readiness 
for an instant change to other behavior on the part 
of every member of the group. If they are sud- 
denly to flee, for instance, all must flee at once. He 
therefore thinks that suggestion is connected with 
the potential activity of suppressed tendencies. A 
sudden change of activity is like dissociation. Sug- 
gestion by its very nature implies a gradation of 
individual response to various stimuli. Hence it is 
different from the all-or-none, or protopathic type of 
instinct. He suggests that herd lif e may have caused 
a different type of modification of primary proto- 
pathic instinct in addition to that of intelligence (the 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 237 

epicritic type). Insect development may have been 
along this line. [An excellent suggestion.] 

There are two statements in this last paragraph 
that should be challenged. First as to the relation- 
ship of suggestion to the potential activity of sup- 
pressed tendencies. Suggestion, in this connection, 
is just one method of directing attention to a stimu- 
lus appropriate for the new reaction. This new 
reaction has not been suppressed in the proper sense 
of the term as we have seen. Secondly, he speaks 
of "the suppression of the instinct of immobility." 
Earlier he has derived suppression from immobility. 
Now suppression is suppressing itself. A suppres- 
sion cannot be suppressed ; it can only be abolished. 
Throughout this section he treats immobility as if 
it were an active process. 

Chapter XII deals with hypnotism in which he 
notes four essential phenomena or groups of phe- 
nomena: (1) heightened suggestibility, (2) wider 
range of sensibility, (3) anesthesia and amnesia, 
which he regards as suppression and (4) dissocia- 
tion. Naturally he attempts to ally these phenom- 
ena with the instincts he has been discussing. Al- 
though usually an individual rather than a group 
phenomenon, hypnotism shows intuition (wider 
range of sensibility) and the heightened suggestibil- 
ity characteristic of herd suggestion. The analogy 
of suppression is not so clear, but the immobility 
of this group and cataleptic phenomena of animals 
and of hypnotized man are analogous and he points 
out further that unwitting suggestions in hypno- 
tism are particularly apt to lead to anesthesias and 



238 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

paralyses. This makes it seem possible that hypno- 
tism is connected with the instinct of immobility. 
Dissociation has already been shown to be connected 
with herd suggestion. He therefore thinks that sug- 
gestion utilizes the primary principles of suppres- 
sion and dissociation: "Hypnotism is an artificial 
process in which man has wittingly utilized a proc- 
ess, or group of processes, which normally takes 
place unwittingly." Suggestion and intelligence 
("epicritic" factor) are the two agencies by which 
the cruder "protopathic" instincts are usually con- 
trasted. "From this point of view we may regard 
hypnotism as a process in which Man has discovered 
that he can direct the instinctive process of sugges- 
tion and annul the activity of intelligence, thus giv- 
ing the mastery to suggestion with its three aspects 
of mimesis, sympathy and intuition. ' ' 

Finally he is forced to consider post-hypnotic phe- 
nomena in which activities so plainly ' ' co-conscious ' ' 
are present. With his antagonism to "co-conscious- 
ness," these phenomena are awkward. He admits 
that if one grants co-consciousness in multiple per- 
sonalities, it is probable that co-consciousness is a 
good explanation for post-hypnotic phenomena and 
that in this case the natural extension of the argu- 
ment is to include fugue activities as similarly de- 
termined. Having admitted this much, he gets out 
of his dilemma with this naive statement: 

"Though I regard this hypothesis as possible and even legiti- 
mate, I do not propose to adopt it, but to continue to speak of 
the fugue as an example of alternate consciousness and to reserve 
'co-consciousness' for cases of double or multiple personality. 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 239 

When speaking of post-hypnotic suggestion, I shall regard it as 
an example of the independent activity of suppressed experience, 
and leave it an open question whether this experience is or is 
not co-conscious." 

In criticism of these views I can only say that if 
one were prepared to accept his previous arguments 
about suppression and immobility, change of activ- 
ity being dissociation and suggestion being purely a 
herd phenomenon, these applications of his hypo- 
theses might be acceptable. It is, however, a little 
difficult to follow him when he speaks of the abolition 
of the "epicritic" factor in hypnosis. One cannot 
read any of the literature of experimental hypnotism 
without being struck by the exquisite discrimina- 
tion revealed not only in perception of stimuli but 
also in response. So far as the mechanism of hyp- 
notic phenomena goes, it is a comparatively simple 
matter to subsume them under the heading of 
anomalies of attention — but this has been discussed 
in an earlier chapter. As to its dynamic interpre- 
tation it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that 
the sex instinct has something to do with it, when 
one considers its emotional concomitants and the 
attitude of the subject towards the hypnotist often 
existent before and after the seance. 

His treatment of sleep in the next chapter follows 
similar lines. He finds processes of "suppression" 
and "dissociation" and evidence of suggestive 
mechanisms in waking stimuli. As one would ex- 
pect, he allies sleep with suppression and immobil- 
ity, although admitting that it is more universal 
than immobility — "instead of coming into action 



240 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

only in the presence of danger, is normally of daily 
occurrence." This seems queer biology or psy- 
chology, to explain the universal and fundamental in 
terms of the more occasional phenomenon ! But, of 
course, if he began with sleep, he would have to ad- 
mit a withdrawal reaction; immobility would then 
become just one example of this and there would 
then be no analogies for "suppression" as he con- 
ceives it. 

In Chapter XV Rivers finally reaches the problem 
of the psychoneuroses, gives an excellent general 
statement and discusses specifically what he terms 
the "Repression Neurosis." Psychoneuroses, he 
says, are due to failures in the maintenance of equili- 
brium between instincts and the forces controlling 
them. There are two general factors concerned in 
the loss of balance, increased strength of the in- 
stincts on the one hand and weakening of the inhibit- 
ing forces on the other. Often these two factors 
are both in operation. As examples of the former 
type he cites the greater forces of the sex instincts 
at puberty or the stimulus applied to the danger in- 
stincts in war. Loss of control may be occasioned by 
fatigue, intercurrent physical disease and the like. 
Again there are two influences which produce dif- 
ferent types of neurotic reaction. The instincts in- 
volved may differ (for instance the war neuroses 
are simple because the danger instincts are simple) 
or, a more important matter, the methods chosen to 
restore equilibrium may differ. 

An attempt is always made, he thinks, to suppress 
the disturbing instinct, for example the soldier tries 



THE THEORIES OP RIVERS 241 

to repress his danger reactions and fear. If this 
attempt be successful, the incipient neurosis disap- 
pears. In what is usually called the ''Anxiety Neu- 
rosis" the unbalance is focused around a particu- 
larly unpleasant or dangerous experience with an 
accompanying effect of shame, horror or fear. The 
patient tries to repress this and exhausts himself 
in the process, so that the experience becomes more 
dominant in his mind. Finally it gains complete con- 
trol and then there is established what Rivers calls 
the "Repression Neurosis." Integration of the ex- 
perience or its suppression have not taken place and 
the effort to repress it has only magnified the con- 
flict. Suppression, as he has pointed out, is instinc- 
tive, while repression is an epicritic function, an in- 
tellectual affair. Therefore the patient who re- 
presses ":. . .is not merely aware of the conflict, but 
both the factors in the original conflict and the va- 
rious symptoms which the conflict produces tend to 
become the subject of rationalizations, and to act as 
the nuclei of morbid intellectual processes, of the 
nature of delusions but differing therefrom in their 
being open to criticism and capable of being removed 
by knowledge and appeals to the intelligence." In 
this state there is always a painful mental condition, 
but this is also amenable to cure by the patient's 
own understanding of the factors involved. The 
anxiety or repression neurosis is, therefore, the re- 
sult of trying to use wittingly an instinctive and 
unwitting process which acts with facility in child- 
hood but not so readily in the adult. 

Such a theory is tenable only by one with limited 



242 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

clinical experience. The description is applicable 
to many cases of war anxiety but is not relevant to 
the anxiety states of civilian life where concern 
with the memory of a particular, painful incident 
is the exception rather than the rule and where con- 
flicts are not conscious. In fact if Rivers had not 
had this theory in mind he would probably have 
recalled a good many cases of war anxiety states 
when this phenomenon was absent or unimportant. 
A fair number of patients gave a history of becom- 
ing more and more "fed-up," more and more 
fearful and finally broke down completely as a re- 
sult of the gradual increase of their symptoms or 
as the result of concussion of which they had no 
memory. That painful memories were always oper- 
ating in these cases is probably indisputable — they 
often appeared in dreams, for instance — but not in- 
frequently they were quite unconscious. In such 
cases the anxiety persisted in the absence of 
"repression" and the presence of "suppression." 

But even if we narrow down the discussion to 
those cases which Rivers' description fits we still 
encounter difficulties. It is questionable whether 
any one can ever put anything out of his mind by 
direct effort, no matter how he try. When 
"repression" is apparently successful, attention 
has been distracted to something else. In fact a 
little analysis shows that direct exclusion of a 
thought from consciousness is impossible. If I say 
to myself "I will not think of A," I am, ipso facto, 
thinking of A. I adopt rather the custom of ridding 
my mind of A by thinking of B. I change the di- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 243 

rection of my attention and so long as I succeed in 
this A remains out of consciousness. If there be no 
reason for A again attracting my attention, the 
idea of A is gone permanently. Rivers' process of 
''repression" is really a change of attention, like 
the alternate reactions, immobility and flight, which 
he regards as the basis of suppression. On the other 
hand, I may not succeed in diverting my attention 
to B; the thought of A keeps coming back to my 
mind again and again. It has some peculiar fas- 
cination for me. In other words it "obsesses" me. 
The symptom which Rivers discusses is really that 
of obsession. It is characteristic of the obsessional 
thought that the patient cannot account logically for 
its persistence. There is something unconscious 
here. It represents some other idea or tendency in 
the unconscious. When that is brought to light the 
obsession may disappear. These obsessions so fre- 
quent in war anxiety states, are important only in 
so far as they prevent adequate conscious examina- 
tion of the preexisting thoughts, now no longer con- 
scious, which determines both the anxiety and the 
obsession. This Anlage is the essential thing. In 
Rivers' cases (given in Appendix III) when this 
Anlage was sufficiently powerful discussion of 
the painful thoughts (i. e., the cessation of 
"repression") brought no relief. 

The relationship of attention to pathological fear 
is of prime importance. In any situation that is 
potentially dangerous, if attention be given to its 
dangerous aspects fear is present. For instance 
the soldier who hears a shell coming and immedi- 



244 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ately thinks of its hitting him is invariably afraid. 
The ' ' courageous ' ' soldier, on the other hand, thinks 
of what must be done about it and gives no atten- 
tion, no thought, to its death dealing power. This 
does not imply any suppression of knowledge, 
merely an indifference which he has developed. 
Many situations of civilian life are potentially 
dangerous, but those of us who are normal pay no 
attention to such potentialities. For instance, I am 
not afraid of street traffic, although the man who 
is driving a car towards me might put his foot on 
the accelerator instead of the brake. It is charac- 
teristic of neurotic fear and phobias that attention 
is always focused exclusively on these dangerous 
potentialities. 

This association of fear with attention introduces 
a definitely intellectual element into the problem. 
This is frequently illustrated in the phobias of chil- 
dren, which may occur before there is much evidence 
of there being a definite splitting off of the uncon- 
scious. For instance a small child unfamiliar with 
dogs may be frightened by one. The concept of 
' ' dog ' ' is then something which includes only notions 
of barking, biting, etc. Consequently whenever a 
dog is seen fear appears. If, however, the child is 
given some opportunity of familiarizing himself 
with other attributes of dogs, their friendliness, 
playfulness and so on, the phobia disappears. So 
attention is no longer directed merely to the poten- 
tially dangerous characteristics of the dog, it is 
turned rather to those features which make him a 
companion. This is the reason why children, other- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 245 

wise apparently normal, develop and lose phobias 
with such facility. Most adults have similar reac- 
tions towards large wild animals, but lion-tamers 
see much more in a lion than his teeth and 
claws. 

The fear of the child for the dog or of ourselves 
for a lion is not neurotic because all we know about 
the animal in question is dangerous. Truly neurotic 
fear begins when the nature of the object exciting 
fear is properly grasped by the patient, is recognized 
not to be dangerous and yet does produce terror. 
For instance the sufferer from claustrophobia 
knows as well as his normal companions that the 
dugout or tunnel or mine shaft is not likely to col- 
lapse but he is unable to think of anything but this 
possibility. We have good reason to believe that 
previous experience (actual or imaginary) has fixed 
in the patient's unconscious mind a vision of him- 
self being buried alive or shut up in some small 
space from which escape is impossible. When he is 
placed in a situation where this might occur, the 
unconscious memory is activated to a point of dra- 
matic intensity; fear develops and is attached 
consciously to a remote possibility of the present 
environment producing the catastrophe. Without 
some such unconscious factor it is inconceivable that 
any one would ever fail to react logically to the true 
nature of the environment. In other words, since 
something unconscious is present, something must 
be suppressed. The pathology of what Rivers terms 
the "repression" neurosis does not lie, then, in the 
memory which the patient is trying to exclude from 



246 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

his mind, but in some other, and unconcious, mem- 
ory or tendency, which is forcing the obsessing 
thought into the attention of the patient. 

In Chapter XVI Rivers goes on to discuss what 
he terms "Hysteria or the Substitution Neurosis." 
In this condition the conflict is solved by a physical 
symptom (usually a loss of function) which disables 
the patient and thus removes him from the occasion 
for conflict. Paralyses and anesthesias are crude 
protective reactions and in war they do protect 
except in the rare instances when they occur on the 
actual field of battle. The latter cases require ex- 
planation showing their relationship to suppression, 
dissociation and suggestion. The loss of sensation, 
paralysis, amnesia and absence of painful effect are 
all evidences of suppression. They show a definite 
relationship to the immobility reaction. Paralysis 
may be fundamentally an attempt at "playing 
'possum," in the pathological case incomplete, and 
hence non-adaptive. 

We may pause at this point to consider these last 
statements. Suppression cannot be derived from 
immobility, as we have seen, hence amnesia and 
absence of painful effect cannot be regarded as im- 
mobility reactions. But how about paralysis, 
anesthesia and loss of localized function? Immo- 
bility, as Rivers takes occasion many times to point 
out, is a reaction of the whole body, it must be com- 
plete or it fails entirely of its purpose. He seems 
to have forgotten that there is another widespread 
protective reaction, immobilization of part of the 
body when use of that part is painful. Foster Ken- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 247 

nedy 1 has shown how after a wound of one of the 
extremities there is an automatic (and perfectly- 
healthy) tendency to immobilize the part. When 
conflict may be solved by perpetuation of disability 
this immobilization continues as an hysterical symp- 
tom. Biologically, this localized loss of function 
represents nothing more unusual than a dog running 
on three legs when the fourth is hurt. It is true 
that Kennedy's cases were hysterias consequent on 
wounds but 1 2 found that when a war ' ' conversion 
hysteria" developed without a wound that the pa- 
tient had always harked back to some previous 
physical disease, one or more symptoms of which 
were reenacted. Immobilization rather than immo- 
bility is therefore the probable biological reaction 
represented in hysterical loss of localized function. 
As to the relationship with suggestion, Rivers 
points out that military training enhances suggesti- 
bility and that hysteria is highly mimetic. As an 
example of the mechanism, he cites mutism: this is 
a loss of speech and the cry is a signal for flight 
which must be inhibited if the group decide on im- 
mobility as the mode of protection to be adopted. 
If one animal cried out the whole group would be 
endangered. [The cry, or its inhibition, is just as 
much — or more — a function of the solitary animal. 
Consider the cry of a young animal to its mother 
or the call of the mother to her young.] His general 
formulation for hysteria is like that for hypnotism : 

1 "The Nature of Nervousness in Soldiers," Journal of American 
Medical Association, 1918, LXXI, 17. 

2 "War Neuroses," Cambridge University Press, 1918. 



248 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

It is due to a breaking down of one modifying factor 
— intelligence — allowing fuller scope to the other 
modifying factor — suggestion. 

On reading this one is struck at once with the 
implication of some sort of an antagonism existing 
between intelligence and suggestion. This is, of 
course, the kernel of Trotter's work but it is a con- 
flict not otherwise hinted at by Rivers. 

He proceeds with the statement that there is no 
reason for considering dissociation (in his sense of 
the term) as present in hysteria, for there is no 
evidence of independent consciousness. He calls 
hysteria the "substitution neurosis" because there 
is a substitution of a primitive type of danger re- 
action for a fully adaptive and discriminative 
reaction to the danger situation. He thinks that in 
civilian hysteria there may be a utilization of mental 
processes originally developed with the danger in- 
stincts now used in the service of the sex instinct. 
[This is like Darwin's derivation of speech from 
sex.] In this connection he remarks, quite correctly, 
that the sex life of women has much real or imagi- 
nary danger in it and that hysteria is commoner 
with women than with men. He admits that some 
hysterical symptoms, such as convulsions and vari- 
ous emotional states, cannot be related to immobil- 
ity and therefore suggests that there may be two 
kinds of hysteria, one primarily related with the 
danger instincts and the other with the sexual. 

On perusing this chapter critically it seems that 
Rivers has succeeded in reducing the field of his 
inquiry to some symptoms of one kind of hysteria 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 249 

that appeared under abnormal conditions. Why- 
does he not discuss the tremors, coarse muscular 
movements and tics that occurred in war hysteria? 
If he admits there are other kinds (or one other 
kind) of hysteria, why does he not analyze them? 
Instead of this he gives a forced interpretation to 
one group of symptoms and leaves us to conclude 
that ''hysteria" is to be understood in the light of 
this interpretation. It cannot account for innumer- 
able symptoms — exaggerations or perversions of 
bodily function, fugues, amnesias, etc. — that occur 
in war as well as civilian hysteria. Janet has shown 
in an exquisite way how all hysterical symptoms 
may be psychologically interrelated but, of course, 
this demonstration involves such concepts as dis- 
sociation, co-consciousness, etc. Rivers would be 
more logical if he separated out the symptoms he 
writes about as belonging to a clinical group sepa- 
rate from hysteria in general, explicable without 
the invocation of dissociation and so on. But then 
the climax of his book would be an explanation for 
a small sub-group of psychopathological phenomena 
bearing little relation to the problems of psycho- 
pathology in general. 

But his program is open to another and more seri- 
ous criticism. He is speaking all the time of the 
immediate determination of specific and simple 
symptoms and not of the conflicts which are the 
fundamental causes of the diseases in question. 
From a practical, therapeutic, standpoint such dis- 
cussions are of little value. Eivers has thrown no 
light on the inherent incompatibility of instinct 



250 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

derivations, their motivations, as Trotter has done. 
He deals merely with the crude and primitive in- 
stinct reactions which are of relatively little 
importance. It is like confining a discussion of car- 
pentry to the anatomy and physiology of the hand. 

On the other hand in this chapter Rivers has per- 
haps initiated discussion of what may prove to be 
a most important principle in psychology, namely 
the possibility that one instinct may adopt in its 
expression mechanisms established in the service 
of another instinct. Darwin, in effect, made this 
suggestion when he derived speech from sex, — 
speech which can serve for the expression of almost 
any one of our instincts. But as Darwin did not 
write on psychology, the psychological implications 
of his suggestion have remained unnoted. 

The remainder of the book may be mentioned 
briefly. After his discussion of hysteria he devotes 
a chapter to "Other Modes of Solution." Here he 
follows Freud, roughly, in formulation of the mech- 
anisms in other psychopathological reactions. These 
have little direct bearing on his previous thesis. The 
next chapter on " Regression" serves mainly as a 
review of what has gone before. It is interesting 
to note that, as Rivers points out, the principle of 
regression as developed in psychoanalytic theory is 
practically identical with Hughlings Jackson 's prin- 
ciple of " Devolution." A last, brief chapter is de- 
voted to "Sublimation," which he regards as the 
normal solution of conflicts. "In this process . . . 
the energy arising out of conflict is diverted from 
some channel which leads in a social or anti- 



THE THEORIES OF RIVERS 251 

social direction, and turned into one leading to an 
end connected with the higher ideals of society." 
[At last reference is made to mental forces derived 
from instinct!] He makes an interesting sugges- 
tion to the effect that psychic energy may, perhaps, 
be increased by conflict. In this connection one 
thinks at once of how almost universal is the story 
of neurotic, or even psychotic, difficulties in the 
youth, sometimes in the adult life, of great men. 

An estimate of this book as a whole is difficult 
because it is such a mixture of error and inspiration. 
Many of his generalizations are attractive and may 
prove to be of great value. Unfortunately he at- 
tempts to apply these generalizations as explana- 
tions of the mechanism of specific reactions without 
first making certain that all the general principles 
involved have been considered. It is like trying to 
explain the mechanism of a pump by reference to the 
laws of gravity alone. One has to take into account 
friction and atmospheric pressure as well. The 
immobility reaction is unquestionably an important 
thing in psychology but at best it is only one factor 
out of many in the causation of phenomena which 
Eivers tries to explain on the basis of immobility 
alone. Again, as has been pointed out, he deals 
exclusively with the mechanics, so to speak, of in- 
stinctive reactions and leaves out of consideration 
their dynamic aspects. That is he neglects to 
discuss the relative strengths of different instincts, 
their inherent conflict or natural cooperation and 
so on. A most serious omission is his failure to dis- 
cuss symbolism in terms of his instinctive reactions, 



252 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

— unless one could take his remark about childhood's 
experiences fusing in the formation of character to 
be a reference to symbolism. 

From these criticisms which have been almost 
wholly adverse, the reader might easily gain a wrong 
impression of the book. It is too full of error both 
clinically and logically to be instructive but is ex- 
tremely valuable in its suggestiveness. One reads 
the separate arguments and rejects them one by one 
and yet keeps reverting in his thoughts to the type 
of argument which Rivers has initiated. It is ex- 
tremely stimulating. In the immediate task to which 
Rivers set himself he has failed but he has written 
a book that may prove to be a landmark in the evo- 
lution of psychopathology. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

PEAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS AND THEIR 
CLASSIFICATION 

The first task of any science is the discovery and 
description of the phenomena with which it concerns 
itself. Then comes the problem of formulating the 
data secured into such order as will make the whole 
collection have some order, some inherent consist- 
ency. Although these two procedures may progress 
more or less hand-in-hand — and, indeed, neither is 
apt to be effectual alone — there may be rather defi- 
nite stages in the development of the science marked 
by the preponderance of one or the other type of 
work. Psychoanalysis has, apparently, rather run 
its course as a purely investigative method, for in 
recent years few data of first-class importance have 
been added to its literature. This may be taken as 
an indication either that all possible discoveries 
have been made or that newer formulations are 
needed which may act as fruitful working hypoth- 
eses. So far criticism in this book has been mainly 
destructive. The remaining chapters will be de- 
voted to more constructive argument. I am keenly 
aware of the magnitude of this task and realize that 
to promise either accuracy, completeness or finality 
in such an undertaking is equivalent to an assump- 

253 



254 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

tion of omniscience. What is offered is therefore put 
forward as tentative suggestion. Whatever value 
it may have is bound to be temporary. New dis- 
coveries may demonstrate it to be not only inaccu- 
rate in detail but false in principle. 

For close on to a decade I have been dissatisfied 
with the exclusive importance placed by Freud on 
the sexual as an explanation of practically all 
psychopathological phenomena. This dissatisfac- 
tion was not a matter of incredulity as to alleged 
findings but with the interpretation of the data. In 
studying the trend of false ideas in the constitutional 
psychoses I found it almost exclusively sexual in 
type and yet I found evidence of another factor 
combining with the sexual, namely egoism. At the 
same time I could not account for such phenomena 
as repression without invoking the cooperation of 
some social force more potent than intellectual 
recognition of convention and expedient compliance 
with its dictates. I therefore concluded that any 
general formulations must include the factors of 
ego instincts and social instincts as well as the sex- 
ual. These views were presented to a small group 
of psychopathologists in Boston in the autumn of 
1914 and repeated at the Annual Meeting of the 
American Psychoanalytic Association in the spring 
of 1915. They were, however, never published. In- 
vestigations of Epilepsy seemed to emphasize the 
pathogenic possibilities of egoism. Then came the 
War and the study of the war neuroses. In 
these the importance of ego and herd reactions 
seemed so manifest that I felt confirmed in these 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 255 

views. They were again repeated in the symposium 
of the American Psychopathological Association in 
June, 1921. In what follows I have drawn freely 
from the contributions of the other participants in 
that symposium. 1 

Scientific formulation necessitates the fabrication 
or adoption of classificatory terms that are as simple 
as possible and yet, as headings, may include all 
the phenomena discussed. Psychoanalysis is a 
psychological method and theory that has concerned 
itself almost exclusively with dynamic principles 
and not with intellectual mechanisms, except only 
as the latter must be understood incidentally in the 
observation of the former. We are now, therefore, 
interested in the forces that move the machine, so 
to speak, rather than with the mechanism of it. Our 
formulations must be in dynamic units. "Where shall 
we turn to get evidence as to the existence and mode 
of operation of these dynamic units'? 

The environment of civilized man is extremely 
complex and calls for a high degree of discrimination 
in his behavior if he is to adapt himself success- 
fully to it. This discrimination is derived from, or 
might be said actually to be, his intelligence, so in- 
telligence is an essential equipment for adaptation. 
On the other hand this varied environment furnishes 
a large variety of opportunities for the support of 
life and its enjoyment. If choice between these dif- 

1 Bernard Glueck, "The Ego Instinct"; Sanger Brown II, "The 
Herd Instinct"; C. MacFie Campbell, "The Sex Instinct"; John 
T. MacCurdy, "Synthetic View of Ego, Herd and Sex Instincts." 
Journal of Abnormal Psychology, Vol. XVI, No. 4, October, 1921. 



256 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ferent possible activities were to be settled by mere 
intelligence, man would be in a paralysis of inde- 
cision such as that of the metaphysician's ass, pre- 
cisely halfway between carrots and hay which he 
wants equally. As a matter of fact either the car- 
rots or the hay is really preferred and the preference 
makes itself felt before intelligence operates to 
measure the distance to each. This choice-function 
— this motivation — is derived from the instinctive 
part of the human psyche and intelligence is merely 
the instrument of instinct. If man had such a rela- 
tively simple phylogenetic history as a fish only a 
limited number of occupations would attract him. 
But, leaving aside his marine and amphibian fore- 
bears, man has lived on the surface of the ground, 
in caves, in trees and at times almost in the water. 
He has fed on animals and been a hunter, or fisher ; 
or depended, sometimes, on vegetables which he 
found or cultivated. He has gathered his food or 
fought with his hands and also with tools or 
weapons. He has been a solitary animal and lived 
in a herd, a nomad and a dweller in cities. He has 
seized his sexual mate and abandoned her; he has 
also won her with servile courting and placed him- 
self in bondage to family institutions. 

These are all more or less positive in their nature. 
The forebears of civilized man had also dangers to 
meet and obstacles to overcome. Even if they had 
the necessary intelligence to form definite judgments 
as to the best way of solving these problems, they 
usually occurred as emergencies and called for im- 
mediate unreflective action. Even today with our 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 257 

much vaunted intelligence we do not use it in sud- 
den emergencies. We do not summon to conscious- 
ness our knowledge of the kinetic energy of an 
automobile that is bearing down upon us and reflect 
on the damage that it might do to us. We jump aside 
and then think. Instincts therefore developed as 
rules for conduct in general situations and those in- 
stincts are still with us. 

In this study the first problem is concerned with 
what we shall call an instinct and what we shall 
exclude from that category. As Rivers has pointed 
out, the attempts to delimit instincts on the basis of 
what is inherited rather than acquired, or what is 
animal not human, or what is (anatomically) sub- 
cortical rather than cortical — all these discrimina- 
tions fail in actual practice. We have to fall back 
on characteristics derived from such comparisons. 
It is an exemplification of the principle enunciated 
by Adolf Meyer that definitions in psychology must 
express direction rather than delimitation. Rivers 
has defined instinct in terms of certain qualities : its 
unreflective nature, its lack of discrimination and its 
tendency for immediate and uncontrolled response. 
To these I would add two other characteristics. 
First the irrational persistence of instinctive be- 
havior long after its futility is demonstrable. One 
thinks at once of a man's pursuit of some woman 
continuing so long after her indifference is proved 
that, were the conduct not so frequent, the man 
would be regarded as insane. The second is the 
emotional factor that is added to many or all in- 
stinctive reactions. This factor makes a given 



258 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

situation pleasurable or painful, desirable or re- 
pulsive beyond all the bounds of reasonableness. 
For instance a man may desire to possess a woman 
with such intensity that he is willing to sacrifice for 
this one brief moment all the joys that the rest of 
life might yield. Our working definition of in- 
stinct would then be that it is a type of phenomenon 
which is unreflective, non-discriminative, immediate 
and uncontrolled in operation, ineradicable and 
affective. 

The second problem is, how are instincts ex- 
hibited? In most animals the question is easily 
answered, for their behavior is simple. The animal 
fights, runs, feeds or protects its young, mates and 
so on. But these simple instinctive reactions in man 
occur only in emergencies. A man who suddenly 
strikes a blow or flinches, a woman who becomes 
enraged when her child is threatened, or the lover 
who suddenly seizes his mistress is plainly indulging 
in an instinctive reaction. Such conduct is simple 
and direct, immediate, uncontrolled, etc. Strip man 
of all the accouterments of civilization and of his 
education and he can still perform such acts per- 
fectly. This is the obviously animal side of his 
nature. But if a man goes into a shop and buys a 
book, no direct observation of that act alone teaches 
us anything about any possible instinct being 
involved in the purchase. Yet he may be seeking 
knowledge for self-aggrandisement or self-protec- 
tion, or he may be securing a present for his sweet- 
heart. And so far as any one of these programs 
is concerned the action (although in itself rational 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 259 

enough) is unreflective, impulsive, persistently re- 
peated and has a high emotional value. But it may 
be quite understandable from an instinctive stand- 
point. 

The lower animals use, mainly, the different ex- 
ternal organs of their bodies for the expression of 
their instincts. The simians, however, may strike 
with sticks or stones in place of their paws. The 
equipment for expression of instinct has been en- 
larged. In man this equipment has grown to an 
enormous extent and entailed modifications of the 
type of expression. Man's chief weapon for offence 
or defence, for acquisition or mating is not his body 
or any part of it, nor yet a weapon he takes in his 
hand, but is his intelligence. Abstract thought — 
ideas — are his tools, and these are used by his in- 
stincts as his arboreal ancestors first used sticks. 
But ideas are of little use to be picked up and 
thrown, they are utilized in programs of activity. 
Hence with the development of his capacity for ab- 
stract thought man has modified the exhibitions of 
instinct and transformed them very largely into 
what we call motives. A motive is not obvious to 
any observer, it is not immediate in its exhibition, 
but if one knows the motive the underlying instinct 
may not be hard to see. An animal lives a life of 
emergencies, so his instincts are manifested in sim- 
ple reactions. Man, on the other hand, sees his 
problems ahead of him in imagination, so he sub- 
stitutes for instinctive reactions, motivations. But 
when he does meet an emergency, then the in- 
stinctive reaction appears. The study of man's 



260 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

emergency behavior would be an extremely simple 
problem. The real task of psychology is the dis- 
covery and analysis of instinct-motivation, the form 
of instinct expression peculiar to man. 

There is a rather inevitable corollary to this prop- 
osition. The structure of the motivation requires 
memory and ideation with instinct to supply the 
driving force. It is generally agreed that emotions 
are — somehow — connected with instinct and not in- 
telligence, the latter being cold and dispassionate. 
Is it not then reasonable to assume that the exist- 
ence of emotionally charged ideas implies the 
existence of underlying instincts embodied in an 
instinct-motivation f This new unit, at the formula- 
tion of which we have arrived, is nothing more nor 
less than the Freudian "wish." I have chosen the 
term "instinct-motivation" rather than the simpler 
word "motive" because the latter, like "wish," has 
a distinctly conscious connotation. 

Instinctive reactions being unreflective are unwit- 
ting, to use Rivers' excellent term. Consciousness 
of what the organism does is apt to occur after, 
rather than during, the act itself. Similarly 
instinctive motivations tend to be unwitting and 
even unconscious, because when consciousness is 
intimately concerned with any motive, the instinctive 
element is apt to wane in favor of expedience, which 
is purely intellectual. True (and powerful) instinct- 
motivations therefore tend to be incorporated in 
unconscious ideas. An instinct operating con- 
sciously is apt to be weak because it is then 
vulnerable to the attack of expediency. On the other 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 261 

hand an instinct not expressed in a motivation is 
formless and impotent except in emergencies. Con- 
sequently we can see that the all important dynamic 
elements are unconscious ideas charged with in- 
stinctive energy, i. e., unconscious instinct-motiva- 
tions. But it must not be assumed that the 
unconscious is purely instinctive. Intellectual oper- 
ations proceed there as in consciousness ; in fact 
memory and ideational processes are intellectual. 
But, in the unconscious they are wholly under the 
sway of the instincts; expedience, sense of reality, 
does not check their use nor evolution. Unconscious 
intellectual operations are therefore wild and er- 
ratic, they may be brilliant or ridiculous. They are 
like the flight of ideas in a manic patient. 

Unconscious ideas are unquestionably acquired. 
Therefore instinct-motivations must be too. Can one 
go so far as to say that instincts may also be? It 
is probable that analysis will show every motivation 
of any power to be founded on instincts that are at 
least mammalian in distribution. On the other hand 
habit behavior may in emergencies have all the char- 
acteristics of instinctive reaction. Should we there- 
fore class habit with instinct? On this point 
psychoanalysis throws some light. Fixed habits that 
persist in spite of conscious effort to eradicate them 
are found to be expressions of unconscious motiva- 
tions, that incorporate instincts in the narrow sense. 
Probably the safest formulation is that habits are 
either indirect expressions of true inherited instincts 
or are weak and unstable acquired instinctive reac- 
tions. 



262 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

Biologically there is no ground for revolt at such 
a conception. Reactions held to be physiological 
may be definitely acquired, for instance the condi- 
tioned reflex. Of course a psychic element enters 
into the formation of conditioned reflexes, this phe- 
nomenon holding an intermediate position between 
physiological and psychological activities. Sche- 
matically one can arrange a kind of hierarchy in 
the evolution of instinct. First there is the simple 
primitive reflex in which no mental elements are dis- 
cernible, such as the secretion of bile at a certain 
phase of digestion. All the phenomena in this case 
can be expressed in purely physiological terms. 
Next comes the conditioned reflex in which the 
description of the afferent component necessitates 
the use of psychological concepts. The third stage 
in this development is the appearance of true in- 
stinctive reactions which are best described both on 
the afferent and efferent sides by the employment 
of psychological terminology, although with some 
of them the old reflex character persists in demon- 
strable visceral effects that can only be described as 
physiological processes. Finally we reach the 
fourth stage of instinct-motivations in the construc- 
tion of which appear ideation and in fact the 
highest type of intellectual operations. And, so long 
as the instinct-motivation remains a motivation and 
does not become (as it may in emergencies) an 
instinct reaction, there is no physiological element 
discernible. In this hierarchy we have, then, run- 
ning side by side the elimination of the purely 
physiological and the inclusion of the mental, cul- 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 263 

minating in the utilization of the most complicated 
and elaborate intellectual faculties. 1 

The relationship of instinct to mental energy 
should now be considered. It is often assumed, I 
think erroneously, that instincts have energy in 
themselves. But they are simply modes of behavior 
in the presence of generic situations. Faced with a 
certain type of emergency, the organism responds 
in accordance with its instinct pattern. A pattern 
has no energy ; the latter comes from the organism. 
An instinct directs energy; it does not create it. 
The allocation of energy to its wrong source is a 
mistake that is easy to make. Let us take an anal- 
ogy. Let us imagine a savage to be investigating 
the water system of one of our cities. He visits our 
houses and sees small quantities of water emerging 
from taps when they are turned on. Then a fire 
occurs: the firemen arrive, street hydrants are 
opened and huge streams of water appear. He 
never sees these large streams except when there is 
a fire. What more natural than that he should con- 
clude that a fire reaction produces the big supply 
of water? Yet we know the firemen have merely 
liberated it. 

In this connection we should also examine the re- 
lationship of this energy to conscious and uncon- 

1 The adoption of this classification of instinctive phenomena might 
reduce the number of problems which perplex the more philosophic 
of writers in this field. For instance if one takes Hocking's recent 
and interesting paper on ' ' The Dilemma in the Conception of In- 
stinct" (Journal of Abnormal Psychology, June-September, 1921) 
and substitutes the terminology now proposed, many of the incon- 
sistencies he points out will disappear. 



264 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

scious mentation. The function of consciousness 
does not seem to be so much creative as selective 
and inhibitive. I cannot voluntarily create a wish 
to do something in my mind. I can only eliminate 
those wishes (or their expression in conduct) that 
seem to me inexpedient. Energy must then be di- 
rected unconsciously rather than consciously. Since 
instincts are the great directors of energy, it follows 
that unconscious, instinct motivations must control 
most of the human organism's mental energy, and 
that the most important of these will be the perma- 
nently unconscious motivations. These will regu- 
late the dominant streams of energy of the man's 
life. 

Now it is a fundamental principle that energy to 
be demonstrable must act against resistance, some 
"work" must be done. For instance water evap- 
orating in an open space gives no hint of the energy 
expended; when it evaporates in a closed boiler it 
does. A stick of dynamite may be held in the hand 
and burned innocuously. If wires running to an 
electric motor are short circuited, the motor does not 
turn, the electricity goes, apparently, nowhere. But 
if resistance be introduced into the circuit heat or 
motion or chemical action may be observed. We 
have ample evidence from clinical experience that 
the same principle applies psychologically. When 
the unconscious instinct-motivation becomes con- 
scious in its original form, i. e., when regression 
takes place, the subject shows less energy. (Hence 
the apathetic deterioration in dementia praecox, for 
instance.) It is therefore essential for demonstra- 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 265 

tion of psychic energy directed by unconscious in- 
stinct-motivations that the motivations should not 
appear in consciousness as such, but, working 
against resistance, assume the form of some substi- 
tuted, symbolic outlet. This is the relationship of 
sublimation to activity and normality. It also ex- 
plains why physical disease is apt to cause 
psychological regression. The total available energy 
of the organism is reduced, the energy supply is 
not sufficient to move against the existing resis- 
tance and so it can only appear in a more primitive 
form. 

The next point is one of prime importance. The 
instinct-motivation being the culmination of a long 
evolutionary process in a highly complicated organ- 
ism it is only natural that a number of instincts 
should cooperate in directing the motive power of 
the constellation. Instinct reactions are elicited by 
simple stimuli which affect only one instinct, but 
man's conduct, as a whole, is determined by both 
his phylogenetic and individual history. A man 
whose life was dominated by only one instinct would 
be a highly pathological monstrosity. The emer- 
gency reaction is, relative to the customary behavior 
of man, an abnormal exhibition. It is like the knee 
kick which is brought out by a simple stimulus but 
teaches us little about the coordinate functions of 
the lower extremity. If a physical instructor tried 
to reduce the science of running to elements as sim- 
ple as knee kicks his teachings would not be 
effective. Similarly we cannot discuss man's con- 
duct in terms of simple instincts acting separately, 



266 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

for he has long since passed the point in evolution 
when his motives were of such a primitive order. 1 

On the other hand, if we admit great complication 
to exist in the construction of instinct-motivation, 
how are we going to be able to analyze our phenom- 
ena into elements of sufficient simplicity for practical 
classificatory purposes! In the prosecution of all 
the activities through which man and his forebears 
have passed, instincts have grown up, and, as they 
all survive in varying strengths, their combinations 
tend to produce an infinite variety of personalities. 
Were it not that certain instincts or groups of them 
usually predominate over all others and that some 
work powerfully to produce uniformity of charac- 
ter, there would be no consistency to human behavior 
and psychology would be doomed to a Sisyphus task 
of description. But, simplify as we may, we have to 
admit in normal man the existence of a number of 
dominant instincts which interact to produce what 
we call normality. 

Since, biologically speaking, disease consists in 
the destruction of more recent evolutionary devel- 
opments with a consequent lawless accentuation of 
more primitive processes, one would expect the 
symptomatology of mental disease to show a wider 
range of atavistic instincts in operation than one 
meets with in normal people. It would therefore be 
unthinkable that one group of instincts could be 
responsible for all psychopathological reactions 

J The complicated instinct determination of motivation is facili- 
tated by the complicated nature of many ideas. The same idea may 
act as the vehicle of expression for different instincts. 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 267 

unless it could be shown that the human mind is 
resistive to all strains, except those of one class, 
or that only one strong primitive instinct survived 
since barbarous times to spring into prominence 
when the instincts peculiar to civilization were dis- 
sipated. Such conditions are conceivable but im- 
probable of universal demonstration. We should, 
therefore, not expect to find one formula covering 
all abnormal reactions any more than one instinct 
would be expected to guide the life of normal man. 

Few of us, moreover, are capable of searching 
for many unknowns at once ; singleness of purpose 
seems essential as a stimulus to scientific inquiry. 
Freud's theories which center around the sex group 
of instincts have provided the necessary impetus for 
initial investigations in dynamic psychopathology 
but the time has come to consider more catholic 
views. Other theories such as those of Shand, 
McDougall and Prince have been less productive of 
enthusiastic research because their readers have not 
been able to see the woods for the trees. The long 
catalogues of instincts postulated or inferred by 
these authors are too diffuse. None have been 
granted sufficient dominance over others to give the 
student any sense of direction. From a dynamic 
standpoint their analyses become rather tautological, 
new instincts being easily hypothesized to account 
for new reactions. The cataloguing of long lists 
of instincts, and disputes as to the existence, or non- 
existence, of separate minor instincts degenerate 
into sterile academic discussions and squabbles 
about nomenclature. Such unfocused formulations 



268 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

have, practically, a tendency quite opposite to 
Freud's. Dogmatism is so far avoided as to make 
an invertebrate system. 

A tentative solution may be found in adopting 
some middle ground. If instinctive reactions could 
be separated into groups which could be shown a 
priori to be inherently antagonistic and if clinical 
experience demonstrated certain abnormal reactions 
to be definitely related to the preponderance of one 
group over the others, then this grouping would 
have high pragmatic value. The interaction of three 
factors is difficult to study but is not impossible. 
No one short of a supreme genius could formulate a 
dynamic system where a score of factors operated 
and, if he did, few could understand it. Some 
simplification is therefore made necessary by the 
limitation of the human mind. If such a system 
sufficiently approximated the truth it might stimu- 
late another forward move in psychopathological 
research similar to that initiated by Freud's theories 
but productive of greater accuracy. 

Writers on dynamic psychology have recently 
been prone to classify instincts into ego, herd and 
sex groups. It is now our task to see if this classi- 
fication is applicable to psychopathological phe- 
nomena and, particularly, if it be useful in the 
interpretation of the data established by psycho- 
analysis. 

But at the very outset we must bear in mind the 
fact that any classification is necessarily artificial. 
The function of any complicated organism is not a 
simple addition or mixture of the functions of its 



PRAGMATIC CONCEPTIONS OF INSTINCTS 269 

hypothetical elements. In the fields of physiology 
and psychology analysis is almost always a study 
of disintegration. The experimental physiologist 
almost always disturbs function in order to study it. 
He is really an experimental pathologist and is 
working with pathological not normal phenomena. 
Similarly the clinician works with disintegrated 
functions and is always in danger of assuming that 
disintegrated elements have, in combination, the 
functions exhibited when they are isolated by dis- 
ease or that in the evolutionary past they had such 
functions. But this is a mistake. Any element 
when it combines with others to form a more com- 
plicated functional structure is, ipso facto, altered. 1 
A neurological example may make this clearer. It 
is often assumed that the functions of the human 
spinal cord are those revealed when the spinal cord 
is isolated from the brain by accident or disease. 
But there never was or could be an animal having 
just the collection of mass reflexes so demonstrated. 
Such an animal would have an extremely simple 
morphology and a much simpler spinal cord than 
has man or any of the mammalia. The spinal cord 
when isolated shows only a degeneration of the com- 
plicated functions in which it participates, which 

1 ' ' But it would be wrong to suppose that removal of a dominant 
mechanism reveals the reactions of a phylogenetically older organ 
in all their primitive simplicity. The integrative activity of the 
higher centers has profoundly modified the functions of those below 
them in neural hierarchy; some have been caught up to take part 
in the new complex, whilst others are held in check or inhibited." 
Henry Head, Croonian Lecture, Proceedings of the ~Royo% Society, 
B, Vol. 92, 1921. 



270 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

functions are predominantly located in the spinal 
cord. Yet we can learn much about spinal cord 
functions by studying the isolated cord, and much 
that is essential to the understanding of disease. 
The spinal cord has no functions that are totally in- 
dependent of the functions of the nervous system 
as a whole but we assume that it has for the neces- 
sary purposes of classification. 

Similarly we shall assume that the ego, herd and 
sex instincts have separate existence. The first task 
will be to see how they act when they are relatively 
independent or dominant and then to trace, if pos- 
sible, their workings in combination. It will only be 
when this is done that we can judge as to whether the 
classification has pragmatic value or not. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE EGO INSTINCTS 

Self-preservation is a term often used for label- 
ing the ego instincts but this has too much the flavor 
of defense against danger. It does not suggest 
those activities in animals or men that are connected 
with the indulgence of appetites, the furtherance 
of purely personal ambition. The essence of any 
ego impulses is that it is self -centered ; it is self that 
is to be saved, to be pleased or to be exalted. Both 
animals and men are either episodically or chron- 
ically subject to other impulses which direct their 
interest of actions to the preservation of the race 
or the security and aggrandisement of the group. 
None of the higher animals is a purely egoistic 
animal and we are consequently assuming the exist- 
ence of a hypothetical individual when we speak of 
ego instincts as though they had an isolated function. 
I would suggest these definitions: The "ego" is 
that about which the ego reactions center and the 
latter constitute the behavior of an organism placed 
in a purely hostile or indifferent environment. This 
environment as viewed by the hypothetical ego ani- 
mal has no claim on his service, and exists only to 
be subjugated, outwitted and utilized for the indulg- 
ence of his appetites. Such an animal may be moved 
to cooperation with others through realization of 

271 



272 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

expedience but this cooperation will not entail the 
development of any feeling of responsibility towards 
his partners. He will cooperate merely to serve 
his own ends, and any show of friendliness he may 
make will be a quid pro quo, vanishing so soon as 
the relationship no longer pays. These reactions 
are all simple, hence we would expect to find their 
emotional accompaniments to be the simple affects 
of fear, anger, apathy or the pure joy that comes 
with lust of power. None of the finer emotions, that 
have an element of sympathy in them, can have any 
place here. 

The suckling child closely approximates this pic- 
ture. The environment interests him only so far 
as it may minister to his comfort. He is happy when 
it indulges his appetites, angry when it does not, 
shrinks from discomfort but is otherwise apathetic. 
One might imagine that the process of suckling 
would entail something like affection for the mother 
but we find that if he can get milk more easily from 
a bottle than from the breast the former is preferred 
and the latter repelled. The appetites during this 
period are primitively self-indulgent — feeding, ex- 
creting and bodily stimulation all involve purely 
personal satisfactions that do not include any ele- 
ment of companionship. These appetites may also 
be satisfied without the mediation of definitely con- 
scious ideas, in other words these reactions are 
purely instinctive. In later life, as we shall see, 
similarly pure instinctive ego reaction may appear 
in emergencies when the ego as such is directly 
stimulated. 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 273 

The development of consciousness, however, in- 
evitably extends and elaborates the structure of 
these reactions. With consciousness conies the con- 
cept of the self which these instincts serve. A child 
refers to himself by his proper name very soon after 
the acquisition of speech and probably has self con- 
sciousness long before this. 1 The concept of the 
ego having appeared, the 'instincts previously serv- 
ing the interests of the individual's body become the 
servants of the ego. This ego has a 'mental rather 
than a physiological existence. It is not what the 
individual is but what he thinks he is. The ego im- 
pulses are now engaged in providing or preventing 
consciously conceived pleasures and pains. The 
transition has been gradual and the next stage is 
also slow in its establishment. The child begins to 
look forward, has ambitions, he builds up an ideal 
of what he would like to be, and how he would like 
to be regarded by others. This is the "ego-ideal" 
around which are centered the activities that may 
now safely be called instinct-motivations. 

There are five general directions which these 
motivations may take. (1) As a survival of the 
original body pleasure phase there is a desire for 
food and drink, creature comforts and bodily sensa- 
tions that may take the form of caresses. (Since 
we are speaking of the hypothetical individual who 

1 The long delay in adopting the use of the first personal pronoun 
probably shows the slowness of development of objeetivation. A 
child can learn "I" only by analogy from its use by others in re- 
ferring to themselves. So a child has to recognize the individuality 
of others and their consciousness of it before he sees the need 
for "I." 



274 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

has no sex or herd instincts, this pleasure in bodily 
contact exists without love.) (2) Intellectual curi- 
osity and the desire for new experience. This is 
evidenced early in the life of the child and may be- 
come a potent principle of action. There can be 
little question as to its instinctive quality, for mon- 
keys and other animals show it. (3) Lust for 
power and for exhibiting it is a highly important 
form of ego impulse. In its crude developments it 
assumes a physical expression; later it becomes in- 
tellectualized. There is no such perfect way of 
demonstrating power as by exciting fear: hence 
brutality or cruelty is the simplest and commonest 
behavior actuated by this impulse. One can't help 
feeling power, if he makes his opponent cry for 
mercy and one may accomplish this with his fists, 
with words or with a cunningly laid plan. (4) 
Allied with this last is the lust for recognition. This 
is seen most primitively in the child who makes him- 
self conspicuous by fair means or foul. The adult 
may win attention with distinguished conduct, out- 
landish clothes or martyrdom. (5) Opposed to all 
these others is the desire for security. It is the 
negative aspect of ego reactions and may, if 
strongly developed, inhibit the full development of 
any or all of the other four. On the other hand, since 
it is negative in quality, it tends to appear only when 
the security of the ego — or ego-ideal — is threatened. 
It is therefore likely to be episodic in its manifes- 
tations, to be exhibited only in emergencies. - 

The individual who would fulfill all these ambi- 
tions would have to be omniscient and omnipotent, 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 275 

were he not to adapt himself to the hostile and in- 
different world, adopt the world's means of estab- 
lishing power and eminence, take the opportunities 
the world offers for gaining a livelihood and seeking 
adventure. In short the ego ideal that is not cast 
in terms of expedience would soon die of inanition. 
Consequently the ego-ideal quickly incorporates 
standards of conduct which are approved by the 
group. Our hypothetical egoist is full of " moral 
principles ' ' without having a grain of moral feeling. 
He serves his fellows for pay, not for love of man 
(or woman.) 

Certain reactions of such a creature can be pre- 
dicted. The personality we are depicting is a simple 
one. The more complex any structure is the more 
unstable is it, or rather, the more modifiable it is. 
Consequently the egoist will have a simple, rigid 
character. This would be revealed positively in 
great persistence — he has only one goal to reach and 
cannot be distracted — or negatively in stubbornness. 
His emotions would always be of a simple order, 
anger, fear, joy, apathy. If expediency did not work 
his "ideal" would quickly break down and he would 
regress to more primitive forms of satisfaction. 
With this loss of extroversion of interest his energy 
(so far as could be objectively discerned) would 
diminish. Finally, since his instincts are concerned 
solely with his own welfare, he would feel no repug- 
nance to antisocial conduct or the harboring of 
antisocial ideas. 

There is considerable clinical support for the be- 
lief that ego instincts operate as outlined above 



276 PKOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

because in certain situations and in certain patho- 
logical states these reactions tend to appear in a 
relatively pure form and in others it is not hard to 
discern the ego element having large influence. 

In the first place we may anticipate the discussion 
of a later chapter by stating that unconscious sex 
motivations which are exclusively unconscious in 
normal life and most potent in the production of 
pathological mental states all have a larger ego 
element than is present in conscious sexuality. Sex- 
ual functions have two main aspects, their pleasure- 
giving capacity and their potential altruistic 
developments. The former make of sex a means 
for gratification of the primitive ego striving for 
physical satisfaction. This, however, is a conclu- 
sion reached by analysis and interpretation. 

But there are some clinical conditions that illus- 
trate our theme much more directly. The most uni- 
versal of these is epilepsy. In order to avoid 
polemical misconceptions, it must be clearly under- 
stood that, for our present purposes, it is a matter 
of indifference whether the etiology of epilepsy is 
physical or psychological, whether the characteris- 
tics to be mentioned are produced by bodily disease 
or as a functional development. Further it must 
be borne in mind that epilepsy is a disease that may 
exist in all gradations and that the epileptic per- 
sonality is not to be understood so much as the aver- 
age reaction of all epileptics but as the character 
which distinguishes the epileptic from his more 
normal fellows, so far as the discrimination can be 
made. It is only in the severer forms of the malady 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 277 

that these traits may be seen in anything like pure 
culture. 

The epileptic is definitely self-centered, the 
events which move him emotionally are those that 
affect his personal comfort or ambitions rather than 
the sorrows or joys of other people. For instance 
the same patient who received the news of his 
mother's death (for whom he protested great af- 
fection) with equanimity became morbidly disturbed 
when refused a second piece of pie at dinner. The 
epileptic is never a devoted friend although often 
a sentimental one. He is secretive and does not 
make confidants of his companions. When succeed- 
ing in his program of activity he is energetic and 
persistent but when thwarted becomes stubborn, 
sullen and finally apathetic. He is usually held to 
be conceited and many have ideas of their im- 
portance amounting to definite delusions but more 
widespread is an attitude, a feeling of self-impor- 
tance, an assertive conviction of inf allibility and an 
indifference to the opinions of others. The epilep- 
tic's morality is proverbial. He is full of moral 
sentimentality but can be ruthless, cruel and indulge 
in antisocial acts without a twinge of conscience 
apparently. Allied with this is an extraordinary 
lack of repression observable in epileptic delusional 
states. In no case of dementia praBcox have I ever 
v seen such complete absence of reserve in speaking 
of sexual ideas nor such crudity in their formula- 
tions. Epileptics may not only have literal incest 
fantasies but hallucinate them in terms of frank 
perversions. Their emotions are simple and vio- 



278 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

lent — the epileptic rage is proverbial — and these 
affective states are invariably called up when the 
ego, as we have defined it, is directly involved. Sym- 
pathy is absent, which perhaps accounts for no 
epileptic ever having been a great interpretative 
artist although many have been endowed with high 
intelligence and have won distinction. They cannot 
adopt other people 's ideas with enthusiasm but can 
only forward their own plans. Finally, when 
blocked in the pursuit of their egocentric ambitions, 
they have not the resilient capacity to turn to other 
outlets for their energy such as is enjoyed by nor- 
mal persons of the same intellectual vigor; they 
respond with apathy and deterioration. 1 A most 
important point is that the type of circumstances 
which excite pathological reactions in the epileptic 
is rarely some disturbance in human relations, as 
with most neurotic or psychotic people, but 
is some untoward event which cramps his egoistic 
ambitions. 2 

The relation of the epileptic's egoism to his energy 
display is important theoretically. Since only his 
ego instincts are well developed, his ego-motivations 
tap the bulk of his energy and his personal ambi- 
tions are driven by the concentrated force of his 
whole being. He thus may show more intense pre- 
occupation with his vocation than does his more 
normal fellow, for the latter is rendered less 

1 MacCurdy, ' ' A Clinical Study of Epileptic Deterioration, ' ' Psy- 
chiatric Bulletin, Vol. IX, No. 2, 1916. 

2 Clark, L. Pierce, "Clinical Studies in Epilepsy," Utica, N. Y., 
State Hospital Press, 1917. 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 279 

effective by the distraction of calls from other in- 
stincts. On the other hand since his motivations 
are determined by only one group of instincts, they 
are rigid and not variable in form. When some 
activity is thwarted it is not easy for him to modify 
his ambitions as can the normal person with capacity 
for a varied instinctive satisfaction. Hence disap- 
pointment is apt to lead to regression, even so 
profound a regression as unconsciousness. The 
epileptic is constantly giving exquisite examples of 
the all-or-none type of reaction in his energy output. 
We must bear in mind that the kind of situation 
which disturbs the epileptic may excite ego reactions 
in more normal people. The best example of this 
was during the war when the desire for personal 
safety came into inevitable conflict with duty to the 
army and the state. No situation could be imagined 
where sexual conflict was less likely to arise. It is 
true that a few psychoanalysts have fabricated 
labored and complicated hypotheses to demonstrate 
how the symptoms of war neuroses could arise from 
unconscious sex factors but one feels, on reading 
their articles, that a primary assumption was made 
of the truth of the hypothesis and that the clinical 
material was not approached with an open mind. 
Certainly the great majority of those with psycho- 
analytic experience who saw fresh cases were con- 
vinced very quickly that they were dealing with ego 
reactions — with the instinct of self-preservation 
specifically. Of course there were cases, called war 
neuroses, who did have symptoms that were due to 
sexual conflicts but these symptoms invariably orig- 



280 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

inated in civilian life prior to duty at the front or 
else were acquired after invalidism, when emotional 
contacts of a civilian order were resumed. This is 
not the place for a discussion of the symptomatol- 
ogy of the war neuroses which is after all too well 
known to justify repetition. It is sufficient to note 
that the symptoms were simple in structure and 
exhibition being, for the most part, either functional 
physical disabilities, which like battle casualties or 
physical disease served as occasions for removal 
from the danger zone, or else they were states of 
fear. 

Another situation that has produced simple ego 
reactions is imprisonment. Prison psychoses have 
long been known for their comparatively simple 
symptomatology and their good prognosis. De- 
lusions usually take the form of fulfillments of the 
wish for liberty. The prisoner imagines himself 
indulging freely in the pleasures denied him during 
incarceration. Emotional reactions take the form of 
outbursts of rage and destructiveness, fear or 
apathy. The latter frequently is so complete as to 
produce stupor. Hysterical disabilities not unlike 
the conversion hysterias of war are not uncommon. 

Analogous to the prison psychoses were many of 
the army psychoses. Unfortunately these have 
never been adequately described. I saw a number 
however that were much like prison psychoses in 
their simplicity of symptomatology and in their 
good prognosis. Some of them looked quite like 
dementia praecox at first sight but astonished one by 
rapid recovery. These conditions were usually char- 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 281 

acterized by paranoid ideas in which the patient 
fancied he was regarded as a spy. It is not difficult 
to interpret such ideas as projections of inner un- 
faithfulness — i. e., revolt against the organization 
that forced absence from normal life and exposure 
to danger. 1 

One must not forget that a definite threat to the 
ego has so frequently the result of producing infrac- 
tions of the law that we are accustomed to consider 
the circumstances in passing judgment as to the 
heinousness of the crime committed. If the threat 
be so violent as immediately to endanger life one 
may kill the aggressor and successfully plead self- 
defense when charged with murder. If the threat be 
more remote, the criminal is held to be guilty but is 
lightly sentenced. For instance the attitude of a 
court is quite different towards a man who steals 
food when he is starving than towards a man who 
steals money simply for the sake of acquiring 
wealth. On the whole, however, it may safely be 
said that ego reactions are frowned upon by society. 
Hence the tendency for their direct expression 
leads to conflict. These conflicts would normally 
produce symptoms (as in war, prison, etc.) were it 
not for the opportunities that society allows us for 
personal expression provided we play by the rules 
of the game. If we consider the five ego-motivations 
outlined above we can see how little modification is 
required of the crude impulses to give them social 
sanction — in some cases, approval. One can indulge 

1 In the cases I examined this mechanism was easily demon- 
strated. 



282 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the nutritional appetites and all bodily pleasures 
provided the latter do not assume certain sexual 
forms. Intellectual curiosity is usually considered 
a virtue, while the correlated love of adventure can 
be followed in many socialized forms. Ambition for 
power is not frowned upon unless it take the form 
of cruelty or the illegal subjugation of others. It is 
only in its most primitive expressions that desire for 
recognition is censured. Finally considerations of 
personal safety are held to be mere common sense, 
unless the subject happen to be a soldier, policeman, 
fireman or some other public servant whose duties 
include exposure to danger. So the ego reactions, 
as such, are not tabu. 

In consequence of this it is only natural that spe- 
cial circumstances must exist before the ego reactions 
become pathological. These may be classed under 
two heads : situations which involve a direct threat 
to the individual, these producing only temporary 
reactions ; and the operation of external or internal 
factors which lead to an unwonted and dispropor- 
tionate prominence of the ego-motivations. Epilepsy 
is an example of the latter type. How far the cause 
is to be assigned to external and how far to environ- 
mental influences no one knows. At all events the 
epileptic is a constitutional egoist. 

Another egoist is the habitual criminal. Concern- 
ing him, as in the case of the epileptic, there is room 
for much difference of opinion as to the ultimate 
pathology of the condition. This, however, is not 
our present problem. All that need concern us now 
is the fact that the criminal, as a constitutional type, 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 283 

does exist. Recent psychological investigations in 
the field of delinquency have shown that frequently 
there is a definite etiology demonstrable from the 
history of childhood. In one way or another the 
future criminal has been thrown on his own re- 
sources — he has been placed in the situation of a 
creature moving in a hostile world. Sometimes the 
child has been ostracized on account of some phys- 
ical defect, sometimes his natural protectors, his 
parents, have neglected or ill-treated him. At all 
events, early in life, he has adopted a career of 
crime and with this has developed a philosophy 
fitted to his occupation. He believes society to be 
inimical, he is convinced that he must play a lone 
hand. Such a man does not stir up internal conflict 
when he consummates a burglary, hold-up or mur- 
der. He is not inhibited by "conscience," nor be- 
trayed by appearance of guilt. On the contrary he 
feels a professional pride in his achievements and 
often escapes detection and apprehension perma- 
nently. Although the purest type of egoist we know 
(for the epileptic may develop a pretty, socialized 
ego-ideal and approximate it), one of the directions 
that egotism takes may be his undoing. He may de- 
sire recognition and, often under the influence of 
alcohol, boast of his crime. 

There is one other, and a pathological, form of 
ego reaction that remains to be discussed. This is 
the feeling of inferiority or "inferiority complex" 
that renders so many, otherwise effective people 
miserably unhappy. Unlike most of the egoistic 
exhibitions we have been considering its psychology 



284 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

is rather complicated and this may be related to its 
etiology which is, probably, sexually overdetermined 
in many cases. Yet its mechanism seems to be a 
rather purely ego affair. In my experience the 
symptom has this history as revealed by analysis. 
Early in life the child finds himself relatively or 
actually inferior. It may be that he is physically 
handicapped, overshadowed by an older child, over- 
awed by his father, backward in development — for 
some reason he is unable to give expression to his 
personality as he would like to. It may be that the 
desire for security is stronger than his desire for 
experience, recognition and so on. He feels this 
inferiority and compensates with fantasies of might 
and of wisdom. This relieves him from actual test 
of his capacity on the one hand and gives him pleas- 
ure on the other. So he indulges it. But a time 
comes when the realities of the world cannot be 
gainsaid and fantasy must be consciously abandoned. 
The imaginary power then takes up its abode in the 
unconscious. Unfortunately the energy that has 
gone with the fantasies has been lost to adaptation, 
so the child or youth is handicapped in the struggle 
for eminence among his mates. Each disappoint- 
ment is reacted to as in the past with a compensa- 
tory imagination of success but now this regal image 
exists only in the unconscious. The less successful 
he is in actual life, the wider grows the gulf between 
unconscious hero and the conscious toiler. Finally 
in the unconscious he is a Napoleon, a Mahomet, a 
Shakespeare or a Sandow. Actually he is just 
John Doe. 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 285 

Three cardinal phenomena of the inferiority feel- 
ing can be traced from this splitting of conscious 
and unconscious judgment. Unwittingly he is con- 
stantly measuring himself up with the unconscious 
heroes and, naturally, he cuts a mean figure in com- 
parison. He looks upon himself and sees a stupid, 
cowardly, flat-chested, spindle-legged animal. In 
practice the contrast is projected on to those he 
meets. He sees Richard Roe and endows him with 
the wit and powers of his unconscious self. If he 
were only Richard Roe ! He feels mean and puny. 
Yet he may really be the better man. 

But unconscious trends rarely seek only one form 
of expression. Compensations crop up from time to 
time. He is occasionally strangely egoistic, even 
egotistic : he has quite set opinions and holds to them 
stubbornly, apologizing profusely the while. There 
are outbursts of temper quite inconsistent with his 
usual meekness. Episodically he dramatizes his un- 
conscious hero; he speaks from Sinai to the aston- 
ishment of those who thought they knew him. Natu- 
rally these compensatory flare-ups exhibit as little 
relation to his real capacity as do his habitual 
judgments. 

Thirdly his social relationships are distinctive. 
Richard Roe is not immune to flattery and he likes 
to be looked on with envy. So Richard Roe likes 
poor John Doe, a man of unquestioned ability who 
thinks that he, Roe, is a very fine fellow ! So Richard 
Roe will do things for John Doe, which he might not 
take the trouble to do for another with more real 
claim on him. Without wittingly seeking it, John 



286 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

Doe is popular with whatever companions his lot is 
thrown, although his timidity may keep him from 
seeking a wide social circle. On the other hand, our 
unconscious tricks are usually played on our inti- 
mates. If you know John Doe intimately you are 
probably aware of his latent egoism and his inti- 
mate society may pall. Particularly, of course, does 
his wife suffer at the hands of the hero he is not 
and that he would he were. In marriage unconscious 
is apt to speak to unconscious, while the two con- 
scious parties are mutually shocked. 

Sometimes the compensation may become a rather 
permanent reaction, the last development of this 
complicated series, and an aggressive pose of supe- 
riority is assumed. The unconscious ideas may take 
the form of grandiose delusions in paranoid states 
or be projected in ideas of persecution. The "spy" 
delusions during the war usually developed in men 
with definite "inferiority" histories. These psycho- 
tic manifestations are, perhaps, not to be regarded 
so much as compensations as the sequel of regres- 
sion to unconscious motivations that have not been 
able to gain or maintain adequate indirect expres- 
sion in sane and permissible form. In the true 
compensations there is a double determination for 
the egoistic behavior. The unconscious is reaching 
an almost direct expression while, at the same time, 
there is a revolt against the playing of an inferior 
role. 

In summary we may say that ego-motivations 
appear in chronic form almost exclusively in be- 
havior reactions (the exception being definite symp- 



THE EGO INSTINCTS 287 

toms in epilepsy and paranoid developments with 
inferiority) and that acute psychotic or psychoneu- 
rotic manifestations are seen usually, if not always, 
in response to situations where the ego or ego-ideal 
is directly threatened. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIK MOTIVATIONS 

The ego instincts are practically universal in their 
distribution. The other group of instincts that is 
present in all the higher vertebrates (and in many 
invertebrates as well) is the sexual. These two 
groups are the most fundamental because together 
they often include the entire instinctive equipment 
of highly organized animals. It is possible to de- 
fine sexual instincts only in broad terms as those 
which have to do with propagation and the seeking 
for pleasures associated with the functions of breed- 
ing. If one eliminates this latter element, there are 
then left for consideration a large group of phe- 
nomena of unquestioned dynamic importance, which, 
analyze as one may, remain without any possible 
biological significance. "Sexual" pleasure, the 
gaining of which involves no breeding act, is ob- 
served in many animals and is extremely common 
in man. If one allies it solely with the ego instincts, 
it remains inexplicable as a biological phenomenon. 
If, on the other hand, one tries to make it a pro- 
creative impulse, its frequent sterility belies that 
classification. From this dilemma one can escape 
only by admitting that sex is not a pure function 
but subserves both ego pleasure and racial propa- 

288 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIE MOTIVATIONS 289 

gation. In other words sex is not a single pure in- 
stinct but is compound and might just as well be 
frankly treated as such. 

In Chapter XVIII we have seen that, on a priori 
grounds, one would expect most mental energy to be 
directed by instinct-motivations that are uncon- 
scious, and, acting against repression, reach expres- 
sion in indirect forms. From the standpoint of dy- 
namic psychology, therefore, we are now interested 
in seeing how the development of the sex instincts, 
the motivations they assume, may become uncon- 
scious and so energize the conduct of man. We are 
not interested in the open conscious exhibition of 
sex impulses which do not occasion conflict j- their 
occurrence is apt to be episodic, their nature to be 
that of simple instinct reactions and their aim and 
function are too obvious to demand further atten- 
tion. It is the motivations that arouse conflict and 
are repressed that we must study. This involves a 
recapitulation of sexual development, something, I 
believe it is safe to say, that could never be done 
today were it not for the researches of Freud. Our 
task lies with the interpretation of phenomena un- 
earthed by psychoanalysis. Of course, if one were 
to trace out all the ramifications of sex anomalies, 
a separate book would be required for their descrip- 
tion. We can now merely follow the general ten- 
dency of psychosexual development, the phenomena 
presumably occurring in every individual. 

In an earlier chapter we have traced the origin 
and development of auto-erotism into unconscious, 
symbolic ''language." Its function in establishing 



290 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the pleasure element essential to sex has been men- 
tioned but not the fact that this is done, very largely, 
by a concentration of interest, previously diffuse, 
on the genitalia and that this interest becomes con- 
scious. This consciousness may appear in infancy, 
be repressed and reappear at physiological puberty 
or (pathologically) it may never be well developed 
consciously at any time, remaining rather an uncon- 
scious elaboration. 

Another problem left untouched was why auto- 
erotism should be repressed. When it has served 
its purpose in first directing the budding powers of 
perception and coordination it is natural that it 
should lapse. But this is not repression, it is disap- 
pearance. Its persistence is probably owing to its 
sexual potentiality which supplies a biological rea- 
son for preserving the body-pleasure function. Its 
connection with sex may also account for its repres- 
sion. A good deal has been made in psychoanalytic 
literature of the effect of education and discipline in 
causing repression of auto-erotism but the impor- 
tance of the factor has probably been overestimated. 
Such influence alone would tend simply to make it 
disappear. The child's habits are very plastic, he 
is continually being trained to change his way of 
doing things and abandon certain tastes without the 
adaptation involving repression and a relegation of 
the early habit or taste to the unconscious. For in- 
stance, he is trained not to drink his food but to 
chew and swallow it. Does he retain in the uncon- 
scious a lust for drinking food? He is taught to 
abandon a spoon and adopt a knife and fork. Does 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 291 

he continue to yearn unconsciously for a spoon as 
his only means of taking food? So it is with clothes 
and games, in fact with nearly all his occupations. 
Nor is it the severity of the attitude of the nurse 
towards auto-erotism that accounts for the repres- 
sions. Many a child is spoken to more severely for 
spilling food or soiling a dress than for anything 
plainly auto-erotic. We are forced to the conclu- 
sion that it is the sexual potentiality of auto- 
erotism which is somehow associated with the re- 
pression of the former. Whence comes the tabu on 
sex? This brings us to the examination of the be- 
ginnings of sex consciousness. 

As the child begins to take interest in the outer 
world he naturally is interested in the people in it. 
Almost at the beginning there is a difference be- 
tween the child's attitude toward human and inani- 
mate objects. With the former he gets and gives a 
kind of sympathetic interest. Naturally experiment 
by trial and error will soon teach him that he can 
get more from people than from ''things." But 
there is another element in the situation, there is 
some subtle, definitely human bond. Even a fairly 
young child will withdraw from one who is not kindly 
disposed although gentle and generous in act. 
Whether this is the working of sexual, or of social 
instinct is immaterial; it is, at any rate, a larval 
form of affection — larval because it is still a highly 
selfish kind of interest. 

This affection tends to become concentrated on 
the parent of the opposite sex. Two factors prob- 
ably cooperate in this first direction of interest. One 



292 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

is the attitude of the parents themselves. Try as 
she may to be impartial a mother tends to pet her 
son more than her daughter and the father does the 
reverse. When unsophisticated and unthinking this 
difference of attitude may be grotesquely and cruelly 
marked. The second factor seems to be some kind 
of instinctive choice which the child makes. The 
evidence of this is that when, owing to the consti- 
tution of the family or the peculiarities of the 
parents, the reverse of the usual parental attitude 
exists, the child responds with greater apparent 
affection for the parent of the same sex but the rela- 
tionship is not normal. The child does not thrive 
emotionally in this situation, becomes exacting, de- 
mands attention with tantrums and so on. In other 
words there seems to be something natural in the 
pairing of the opposite sexes in the family, some- 
thing pathological when the reverse holds true. 

Children are selfish and want all they can get or 
imagine out of any situation. The adult lover wants 
complete possession of the woman of his choice and 
he translates this into terms of sexual embrace. 
(As a matter of fact he wants much more than that 
and that alone does not satisfy him. He wants a 
vague, general possession as well.) The child does 
not know what a sexual embrace is, nor, if he were 
told with ever so complete detail could he under- 
stand it fully, because he is physiologically incapa- 
ble of the act and therefore of its true perception or 
imagination. So he formulates his desire in terms of 
what he can understand and what he sees or knows 
about. He yearns for complete intimacy with his 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 293 

mother, soon he finds that his father enjoys some 
kind of intimacy which is denied to him. So he 
begins to say that he wants to put his father out of 
the bed and sleep with his mother, if his sophistica- 
tion has advanced to the point of his knowing they 
sleep together. Otherwise he may say that when 
he grows up he will marry his mother and so on. 

Then, as a rule rather abruptly, such remarks 
cease, repression has occurred. It cannot be too 
strongly urged that this process is essentially spon- 
taneous. No direct influence is, as a rule, used to 
inhibit such talk. When little Willie says he will 
marry his mother, the family circle are not horri- 
fied, they do not credit him with any sexual ambi- 
tion, in fact they usually think it a joke, they laugh, 
he is made to feel that he has said something smart. 
Nor do the parents themselves (so far as I have been 
able to learn by observation and questioning) sud- 
denly become sex-conscious with their offspring. 
Children may be, and often are, taught to feel shame 
about excretion and exposure of their genitalia — 
often a difficult reaction to inculcate and one that 
comes later than the repression we are speaking of 
■ — but the cessation of this "CEdipus" talk is a 
spontaneous phenomenon. 

We judge that there has been repression and not 
a simple lapse or change of interest because all that 
disappears is the open reference to a potentially 
sexual attachment while the relationship to the 
parent becomes stronger rather than weaker. The 
child continues to behave as though still moved by 
the same ambitions although he does not speak of 



294 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

them. He is apt to be even more demonstrative, is 
more influenced by his mother, likes to be with her 
constantly and frequently shows signs of jealousy 
of his father. The last is particularly important be- 
cause it indicates the existence somewhere of a sex- 
ual desire. The average mother shows more affec- 
tion, publicly at least, to her son than to her hus- 
band. If the child had lost, and not repressed, his 
wish for extreme intimacy he would be indifferent 
to what his father might enjoy in this regard, since 
he apparently wins more attention than the latter. 
There is, then, no possible ground for jealousy ex- 
cept it be based on the maintenance of a sexual am- 
bition. It cannot be too often repeated, however, 
that "sexual" is too strong a word to use because 
the child at this time does not and cannot know what 
the term means in the way an adult does. Two other 
attendant phenomena are presumably related to this 
repression. The child exhibits much sexual curiosity 
and wants to be " grown-up." He wants to do what 
big boys and men do, have their peculiar, masculine 
possessions such as knives. A final point should be 
mentioned. The result of the repression may be to 
produce conscious antagonism to the parent or 
insensate oscillations between affection and repul- 
sion — never indifference. How can repression result 
in such varying consequences! What is repressed 
and what happens to it I 

It is obvious that the mother herself cannot be 
repressed but only the boy's idea of her. If the 
child were an accurate observer this repressed image 
— this "Imago" — would correspond closely to what 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 295 

the mother really was and the repressed desire 
would be for complete possession in all possible and 
in quite knowable ways. But once repressed and in 
the unconscious (which is probably being created 
now for the first time by this and similar processes) 
the object of attainment is no longer formulated in 
terms of the known but of the desirable. In other 
words the Imago becomes an ideal and does not re- 
main the picture of a real person. This discrimi- 
nation is most important. Without it the CEdipus 
complex becomes in many cases inexplicable or 
ridiculous. For instance, the girl, whose father is 
and always has been a brutal ruffian, gives voice in 
delusions to an unconscious striving for union with 
him. It cannot be her real father, it must be an ideal 
parent. It is failure to recognize that the uncon- 
scious Imago is established as an imaginary and not 
a real figure that has led Jung to formulate his doc- 
trine of the collective unconscious, that this Imago 
is inherited. Yet we can see how it is easily and 
naturally acquired. 

Viewed from this angle one can see that the 
QEdipus complex is not only inevitable but essential. 
Psychosexuality has to begin sometime. If it ap- 
peared only at physiological puberty, the individual 
would suddenly be confronted with a new instinct, a 
new impulse, utterly meaningless to him. He would 
have not the slightest means of knowing what to do 
with it either consciously or unconsciously. On the 
other hand, we know by universal experience that in 
later years sexual selection, for mating purposes, 
does not rest on an immediate and conscious sex 



296 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

attraction but rather begins with admiration, ten- 
derness and so on. If a friendship thus established 
flourishes, the closer intimacy which develops pro- 
duces sooner or later conscious sex feelings. Now 
the young child enjoys a higher degree of such affec- 
tion and tenderness than will ever come his way 
until he has reached the age of definite courtship in 
adult years. Consequently — if we admit the exist- 
ence of sex interest in childhood, which we have 
seen to be biologically necessary and the existence of 
which is demonstrated by much evidence — it is inevi- 
table that sex feelings will tend to flow towards 
those with whom greatest intimacy is enjoyed. This 
is usually, as we have seen, the parent of the oppo- 
site sex but it may be a nurse, an aunt, an older sis- 
ter and so on. Practically we often find that the 
mother of a small boy fills a secondary place in his 
life, that role being taken by a nurse or older sister. 
The same repression takes place because sexual feel- 
ing for a mother person is tabu. 

The development of a father Imago by a little 
girl, was nicely illustrated in the observations of the 
parents both of whom had previously been my pa- 
tients. The father was forced by business to be 
away from home a good deal, which threw the child 
more into the mother's society and also made her 
reactions more definite when she did see her father 
on his returns home. Objectively she showed as a 
rule much more interest in her mother than in her 
father, but was invariably more easily influenced by 
the latter. Her reactions with her mother were 
sometimes ambivalent, almost never with her father. 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 297 

When approaching the age of two, she was quite shy 
and coquettish when her father came home after 
an absence of two weeks. This lasted only a few 
hours but he now seemed to have a strange, almost 
hypnotic power over her. She disliked her midday 
nap and often would lie awake obstinately for a 
couple of hours. But at a word from her father the 
child would go placidly to sleep. At my suggestion 
this convenient solution of the household problem 
was abandoned as I thought the reaction verged on 
the pathological and such suggestibility should not 
be crystallized into a habit. Some six months later, 
the father was away from home for several months. 
She anticipated his return with much excitement 
but was more than ever shy when he actually arrived. 
After a day or so this shyness disappeared and she 
abandoned herself to enthusiastic enjoyment of his 
society. But now a curious reaction appeared that 
can surely only be interpreted as sex consciousness. 
She showed signs of painful embarrassment if her 
father appeared while she was taking a bath, a be- 
havior not noted in the presence of any other person. 
My informants insisted that not a word had been 
said to suggest any impropriety in his inspection 
of her toilet and that an invariable rule had been 
to treat the questions of excretion and so on in a 
perfectly matter-of-fact way. The only rule was 
that these matters were not to be discussed in public 
because this was "bad manners," like using a fork in 
the wrong hand. Coincident with this modesty reac- 
tion, however, there was at all other times more 
display of affection than there had ever been before. 



298 PKOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

Then came the war. The father entered the navy 
and was absent for over a year. Her mother went 
to the seashore shortly after the departure of her 
husband, near which was a naval officers' training 
station. A cadet who was a friend of the family 
came to visit one day in his uniform. The little girl 
followed him around like a dog with idolatrous ad- 
miration. A week later he returned in civilian 
clothes, when she would have nothing to do with 
him. While at this place, for the first time the little 
girl, now three and a half years of age, exhibited 
imagination such as had been very slightly devel- 
oped before. Whenever she saw a ship on the hori- 
zon she would begin a story about how that was a 
battleship on which her father was an officer. He 
would jump overboard and swim ashore to see her. 
He would arrive on the beach, " without any clothes 
on" ( !), light a fire by which they would play games 
and so on. When the fall came she was very anxious 
to return to her home and on arriving spent two days 
wandering around disconsolately as if looking for 
something she could not find. But she did not say 
what she wanted (perhaps she did not know con- 
sciously) and was not asked. Then she cheered up 
and became her normal care-free self. 

When her father finally did come home she could 
talk of nothing else for days beforehand. She was 
overheard telling her little playmates that her father 
was the greatest sailor in the world. When he actu- 
ally arrived she showed not an instant 's shyness and 
was elated as only children, manic patients and those 
under the influence of alcohol can be. Another 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 299 

change was soon manifest. She not only had lost 
her feeling of embarrassment but actually asked to 
have her father come and see her bathed. When he 
did so, she evinced no more sex consciousness than 
a puppy. A few weeks later the secret of this change 
was discovered. She was found playing with several 
dolls whom she had named after the younger chil- 
dren in the family and who were her children, so she 
said. The rule of not asking leading questions was, 
for once, broken and she was asked who the father 
was. Without an instant's hesitation she replied, 
' ' Oh, their father 's in the navy ! ' ' Two months later 
an uncle of whom the child was fond, but not inordi- 
nately so, appeared also in naval uniform. Again 
she went through the same kind of elation but not in 
so exaggerated a form. 

It is not difficult to reconstruct the mechanisms at 
work in this case. When embarrassment over naked- 
ness appeared her attachment for her father was 
assuming sexual form consciously and she was 
working unwittingly to repress it. As soon as her 
father left home she succeeded in this repression by 
means of transferring the sexual impulse to the 
Imago, which she could now easily build up. The 
sexualized object was now no longer her real father 
but a father person who was in the navy. So, when 
her real father reappeared, she was emotionally ex- 
cited, but had no sex consciousness with him what- 
ever. The Imago was a perfectly permissible 
father for her children and when another man ap- 
peared wearing the Imago's clothes, she was again 
stirred up emotionally. 



300 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

This case shows very prettily the function of re- 
pression and of the Imago. She disposed of em- 
barrassment and, at the same time established a 
mechanism whereby her psychosexual development 
could go on. That which was originally repressed 
was probably not a definitely sexual desire that an 
adult would recognize as such but only a desire for 
possession that had some kind of sexual coloring. 
With added sophistication, each increment of knowl- 
edge is being added to the unconscious motivation 
(now no longer to be called a wish because it is 
not conscious) until finally, when at physiological 
puberty adult sex sensation is possible, a full 
blown incest motivation will develop deep in the 
unconscious. According to this scheme of de- 
velopment, we see that there never is a conscious 
incest fantasy; it cannot exist in infancy owing 
to ignorance and it does not (normally) exist in 
adult life because any thought of sex in association 
with blood relations is long since relegated to the 
unconscious. 

The Imago begins as an ideal of the parent as we 
have seen. The parent is more important for the 
development of the child after repression than be- 
fore. Freud has wisely said that it is the boy's 
mother who first teaches him to love. If the mother 
is wise and affectionate she can serve as a conscious 
outlet for the unconscious impulses centered on the 
Imago. In other words the child does not dam up 
libido but learns to apply it to a real person. The 
application of libido to real persons and real activi- 
ties is its achievement of adaptation. Making 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 301 

the ideal actual is the object of our lives. But what 
happens if the mother is not wise and affectionate f 
The child must love some one, the instinct is develop- 
ing within him. If he cannot apply this interest to 
some one who is actual he must give it to a fantasy 
figure. If his mother repels him he turns to the 
Imago, the latter is exalted. If his mother does not 
kiss him, the Imago is all kisses. If his mother 
kisses him too much, the Imago is full of dignity and 
treats him with respect. In short if his mother is 
unsatisfactory the Imago becomes her very opposite. 
We are all seeking to find our Imagos in the real 
world. The man whose Imago is a pure ideal, com- 
pounded of virtues not known but only desired, will 
never find her. This is, very often, the problem of 
the neurotic. This also accounts for most men 
marrying women who either resemble their mothers 
or are their very opposites. The man who has never 
learned to get emotional outlet with his mother is apt 
to regard her as physically repulsive and naturally 
feels the same way towards all women of a similar 
physical habit. The same is true of mental traits. 
Faithfulness to the Imago implies revulsion of feel- 
ing for those who have not her form or character. 
This also accounts for the otherwise anomalous ex- 
istence of unconscious GEdipus complexes coupled 
with conscious dislike. The fate of people in this 
predicament is sad, particularly when they are 
young. Not only have they little opportunity in 
conscious outlet for their affection but they are often 
strangely under the domination of those they de- 
spise. The real parent is the representation on 



302 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

earth, so to speak, of the Imago and hence enjoys 
the authority of a vicegerent. 

From all this argument we may conclude that re- 
pression — of an effectual, unwitting order — first 
begins with the establishment of the CEdipus trend. 
This — as Burrow has said — is the foundation for all 
repression. "We certainly see in studying the psy- 
choses ample reason for indulging this opinion. 
There the last thing to appear is the frank incest 
fancy, the first that which resembles it least. The 
more repression is psychotically lifted the nearer do 
we come to conscious appearance of literal CEdipus 
ideas. Probably all true repression (as opposed to 
voluntary inhibition which may become habitual) is 
really at bottom a repression of incest. 

A narrow literal interpretation of this statement 
might make it ridiculous for there certainly is re- 
pression in the normal person of auto-erotism and 
infantile sexual impulses in general. Yet one does 
not have to receive many confessions from fairly 
normal people to realize that much of this "repres- 
sion" is more of a conventional inhibition than a 
thoroughgoing exclusion of such impulses to the 
deeper levels of the unconscious. Most people, when 
honest with themselves will admit an interest in 
their excretory processes, probably few people in the 
heat of erotic excitement have never felt a tempta- 
tion — be it only a fleeting one — to perform some per- 
version. The fact that this indulgence would involve 
another person and doubt as to the attitude of the 
other probably bulk largely in the speedy inhibition 
of the tendency. 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 303 

On the other hand some repression does exist and 
this, I think, is a repression of all infantile erotism 
that is associated with the CEdipus complex. One 
must remember that the child does not know what 
adult sex activities really are. He can only inter- 
pret them in terms of practices which he himself 
can enjoy. In the delusions and hallucinations of the 
insane when there is literal reference to sex union 
with a parent it almost always takes the form of a 
perversion, i.e., of an infantile impulse. It must be 
remembered, too, that infantile attachments are 
selfish — the child gets much and gives little — while 
the erotism of the period is of its nature sterile. 
The libido outlets of this time are all non-adaptive 
and must therefore suffer repression. The OEdipus 
complex comes to act as a kernel or focus for all 
these activities that must be made unconscious. But 
no matter whether all repression comes from the 
'incest-horror' ' or not, it certainly seems to be the 
earliest true repression. The little girl described 
above, for instance, continued at increasingly long 
intervals to indulge in auto-erotic acts for over two 
years after the CEdipus repression was definitely 
established. She, of course, had never been vio- 
lently scolded for such indulgence. Her parents 
merely reproved her for babyishness and bad man- 
ners, wishing to avoid the development of unreason- 
ing shame about sex. 

Auto-erotism and the establishment of the 
CEdipus complex mark the first stage in the develop- 
ment of the sex instinct-motivations. Next to this 
Freud has posited a latent period that lasts until 



304 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

puberty. With this I am not in sympathy as it im- 
plies a cessation of sex activity and this does not 
take place. Sex curiosity flourishes at all ages and 
the child who has reached the school age does not 
confine his interest to the subjects of the curriculum. 
Moreover auto-erotism, although not so openly 
practiced, still persists in some form or other in the 
majority of children and definite masturbation is 
common particularly in boys. Finally interest in the 
opposite sex, although normally not violent shows 
all the characteristics of sex attraction. I would de- 
fine puberty as the period during which the indi- 
vidual becomes conscious of his or her sex and sexual 
destiny. Normally, I think, this begins gradually 
as the infantile period, characterized by doubtful 
consciousness of sex, is tapering off. It comes nor- 
mally to a climax at physiological puberty, the next 
stage being adolescence, when new types of adapta- 
tion are being tried out. 

It is important to make the discrimination be- 
tween physiological and psychological puberty for 
they may be far from coincident in their develop- 
ment. Many young people, particularly girls, may 
have physiological puberty established without any 
sex consciousness appearing for years. The same 
situation is sometimes found among men. I have 
had one patient who until in his twenties regarded 
his penis as a rather awkward appendage and the 
physical complications of puberty as a nuisance. In 
his late teens he had erotic fancies but they were of 
a definitely infantile order. He began to masturbate 
at twenty-eight. Psychological puberty did not 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 305 

reach its full development until he had passed phys- 
iological puberty by ten years. 

The developments of psychological puberty are as 
follows. In the directly sexual sphere there is a 
gradual sophistication about the facts of birth and 
procreation with a coincident realization of what the 
individual's sex goal must be. This process must be 
a gradual one for the simple reason that accuracy 
of knowledge, in what remains for the child an ab- 
stract matter, cannot be acquired in early years no 
matter how accurate the statements of instructors 
may be. A child for instance, who today is told in 
answer to questions, the exact facts of generation 
may to-morrow publish a fantastic theory of his 
own creation. Except where observation of the con- 
crete and palpable is possible, the child is incapable 
of grasping correctly statements of processes be- 
yond the sphere of his experience. Consequently 
the first phase of sophistication is one of fantasy. 
Many of these hypotheses are repressed and become 
part of the "language" of the unconscious. Insa- 
tiable curiosity driving him on, he begins to learn 
for himself the phenomena of generation in the lower 
animals, which he may have opportunity to observe 
or he may hear older children repeat the same story 
with sufficient consistency to give it a flavor of 
authenticity. Naturally so far as all this concerns 
his own sexual potentiality, he cannot know it in 
anything like a real way till he has experienced an 
orgasm, or some more or less equivalent genital 
sensation. This is apt to lead to experimentation, 
sometimes practiced with other boys or girls. At 



306 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

this time there is apt to be a guilty delight in 
"smutty stories." All this education culminates in 
the actual experience of orgasm when it occurs as a 
result of appropriate stimulation after physio- 
logical puberty has been established. Sex conscious- 
ness is then established and all that remains to be 
accomplished is its application, a fruition not to be 
reached till marriage or some equivalent relation- 
ship is established. 

As has been said before, this conscious sophistica- 
tion is paralleled by an unconscious growth of the 
CEdipus fancy, which ever becomes, more and more 
literally, incest. Perhaps it would be more accurate 
to state that unconscious knowledge frequently out- 
strips the conscious. One may (at any age) take 
cognizance of words or sights, which one is unaware 
of having perceived. For instance one of my pa- 
tients remembered a vivid dream at the age of thir- 
teen of seeing coitus between a man and woman. It 
was accurate in detail. The next day she told her 
mother, who then, for the first time told the girl of 
facts of which she was consciously in complete 
ignorance. 

From the standpoint of adaptation in later life 
other events of this period are probably more impor- 
tant than actual and accurate sex instruction. The 
normal child during this time is gradually weaning 
himself from the nursery and its hothouse influence 
and learning to adapt himself to strangers who de- 
mand a quid pro quo for their friendship. In the 
home the child has care and love given him, whether 
he works for it or not. When he goes to school or 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 307 



plays with strange boys elsewhere he gets, roughly, 
just as much as he gives. He cannot be self- 
centered or selfish and thrive in this new environ- 
ment. Consequently he learns to objectivate his 
interest. At the same time he is acquiring interests 
other than the purely human ones. Ideas of occupa- 
tions come to him. At first he is going to be a fire- 
man or a locomotive engineer; later he begins to 
dream of vocations more in keeping with his social 
status. "Wittingly or unwittingly he is preparing 
himself for the business aspect of his adult life. 
He may even develop a taste for his studies ! Such 
thoughts are important from our present standpoint 
because these new interests are all outlets for 
energy. They may or may not at this stage be 
vicarious outlets for sex energy but they are avail- 
able as such against the period of adolescence when 
there is a great increment of sexual energy that has 
to be taken care of somehow. "We believe that these 
general adaptations are more important than so- 
phistication in the narrow sense because many chil- 
dren have most defective sex education and still 
attain to success in after life. On the other hand 
practically every neurotic and psychic patient gives 
a history of insufficient objectivation of interest at 
this time. He has not learned to sublimate while the 
technique is easily acquired. The mind of a child 
is plastic ; he can learn new mental habits which in- 
volve great effort for the adolescent or adult, or may, 
indeed, be impossible for the latter. 

We learn as much about the normal development 
of psychological puberty from its irregularities as 



308 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

we do by direct observation of the mentally healthy 
boy and girl. The anomalies are of two kinds: 
precocious appearance of sex consciousness and 
slowness in development of all the characteristic 
acquisitions of this period. The first is quickly dis- 
posed of. The child who is prematurely sex con- 
scious has not the intellectual equipment (nor op- 
portunity) to sublimate; he is not physically en- 
dowed, even if he were socially permitted, to gain a 
"normal" sexual outlet. Consequently he is thrown 
back on himself and masturbates. This does give 
him an outlet and so facile a one that it is easily 
established as a life habit. This may be fixed as his 
kind of sexual pleasure. To others he cannot attain. 
Unfortunate or disastrous results may follow on 
the appearance of physiological puberty before its 
psychological correlate is complete. This may occur 
as a result of precocious physical, or of delayed 
psychic, development. In either case he has 
"strength without hands to smite." There is a 
great influx of energy before the individual has be- 
come a socialized animal. Very often this energy is 
expressed in antisocial ways. It begins with adven- 
ture and ends with crime. Healy 1 , for instance, 
found that precocious physical puberty was not in- 
frequently associated with delinquency in girls. A 
somewhat analogous occasion for trouble is the sud- 
den acquisition of sophistication (before physical 
development is complete) in a child who has been 
"sheltered" from such knowledge. The informant 

1 William Healy, "The Individual Delinquent," Little, Brown & 
Co., 1915. 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 309 

in such cases is an older child, who sets himself 
up as a guardian of the mysteries and so gains a 
pathological power over the initiate. If the former 
be — as he so often is — a bad boy, he may lead an 
unwilling but unprotesting accomplice into crime. 
Many children are thus forced against inclination 
and judgment into thieving; they are under a spell 
which they cannot break. Neither they nor their 
distracted parents realize that the conduct is an 
aberrant exhibition of a sex impulse. 

But most important of all is the fructification of 
the unconscious (Edipus development unaccom- 
panied by capacity to sublimate. The unconscious 
impulse for erotic satisfaction with the parent has 
become a definitely copulative one and is backed by 
a strong physical pressure. It is characteristic of 
all unconscious motivations that they are capable 
of fulfillment in indirect and substitutive form. 
Therefore, if the boy has learned to make friends, 
play games and study, such activities can carry off 
this surplus energy. He can make his friendships 
warmer, he can blow off a lot of sexual steam in 
dancing and in comradely affection for those of the 
other sex. But if he has never learned to do this 
kind of thing, if he is of the seclusive bashful type 
who prefers to go home after school rather than 
mix with his fellows, he is now caught in a dilemma. 
The unconscious motivation is there, it is inflated 
with a new access of energy and, consciously, there 
is no channel for expression of the impulse except 
that which the unconscious demands ! Some outlet 
must be found. It usually is pathological. A psy- 



310 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

chosis or neurosis ensues in which there is repre- 
sented a weak attempt to socialize the (Edipus idea 
that succeeds only in representing the attempt in 
fantasy, not in actuality. Sometimes the unconscious 
breaks through in literal, or almost literal, form and 
dementia praecox results. This is the central mech- 
anism of the psychopathic reactions of the period of 
physical puberty. 

Adolescence is the period during which people of 
either sex are apt to become keenly aware of their 
sexual and other problems. For this reason most 
patients date their " nervousness" from this time 
but any one who goes beneath the surface of such 
phenomena sees that adolescence is merely the time 
when faulty preparation for life becomes dra- 
matically evident, the causative factors lying far 
behind. 

We have just seen how the inflation of the (Edipus 
complex at physical puberty inevitably leads to con- 
flict. The first solution of this is pathological in 
kind but is so frequent in occurrence that, provided 
its duration be brief, it must really be regarded as a 
normal phase. Consciousness of sex is acute and 
leads to onanism, which is usually accompanied by 
fantasies. In boys this is practically universal. 
With girls — it is harder to get reliable information 
here — some kind of masturbation is practiced pro- 
vided the subject be conscious of sex. So frequently 
in our form of civilization are girls brought up to 
know nothing in this sphere, even of simple hygienic 
matters, that menstruation may be established with- 
out there being any knowledge of the meaning of 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 311 

the phenomenon. In such cases sex information is 
apt to be unconscious and, naturally a mixture of 
fact and infantile theory. These girls, however, 
often indulge in auto-erotism at this period although 
the erogenous zone may not be the genitalia. Fre- 
quently they irritate the breasts. Such acts are 
usually half compulsive and accompanied with an 
ill-defined feeling of shame. 

Fantasies may accompany such acts or simply 
occur in the absent-mindedness that so often is a 
symptom of physical puberty. With boys masturba- 
tion is apt to be a physical outlet for a fanciful ex- 
perience of coitus. "With girls sentimental sex fan- 
tasies may produce a condition of excitement that 
culminates in definite onanism. Then both sexes in- 
dulge freely in daydreams appropriate to their sex. 
The boys see themselves as cowboys, pirates, avia- 
tors, etc. The girls lose themselves in scenes of so- 
cial and domestic triumph. 

These imaginations prefigure normal destiny and 
if the individual have the requisite adaptability, the 
necessary capacity for objectivation, sex energy is 
deflected into activities preparatory to the assump- 
tion of their life work. More direct outlet for sex 
is obtained in social intercourse. Young people 
usually show a sudden increase in sociability at this 
time, and, unless it be compulsive in character it is 
a healthy activity. Adolescents can gain much 
diluted sex pleasure in a socially permissible form 
in dancing and " puppy love" affairs. In fact there 
is nothing more surely indicative of psychopathic 
taint than the failure to have such love affairs in 



312 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

one's teens. They form the natural transitions to 
the serious attachments of later life. 

Coincident with the socializing of the sex impulse 
in friendship is its sublimation in play and work. 
Fantasy is gradually made achievement. Sex rivalry 
probably has a good deal to do unconsciously with 
the lust for athletic achievement among boys, and 
in addition there is definite pleasure, allied to auto- 
erotism but healthy in form, to be derived from the 
use of one's muscles. The essence of sex biologically 
is creation, consequently doing or making almost 
anything can become a sexual sublimation. But the 
psychological mechanisms of sublimation are too 
well known to require further exposition. 

The fate of puberty masturbation varies. In nor- 
mal, well adapted individuals the excessive energy 
first directed towards sex is deflected into other 
channels, genital consciousness therefore diminishes 
and masturbation dies a natural death. But in many 
cases — some of them not at all psychopathic in con- 
stitution — it does not depart without first stirring up 
a good deal of trouble. Misinformation as to the 
prevalence of masturbation and its alleged disas- 
trous effects (impotence, sterility, insanity, etc.) 
causes the onanist to think himself (or herself) a 
secret criminal doomed to inevitable and awful pun- 
ishment. He does not realize that in brooding over 
his iniquity he is continually thinking of his genital 
organs or functions and is so only increasing the sex 
consciousness that is the occasion for his trouble. 
Inevitably this consciousness reaches a climax in 
another compulsive indulgence and so the vicious 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 313 

circle goes on. Without psychological advice the 
habit may gradually lapse owing to the intercurrence 
of a stimulus which forces distraction of attention to 
some healthier preoccupation. These unfortunates, 
however, usually carry with them throughout life a 
psychic scar. Frequently male masturbators are 
advised to seek relief in "normal" intercourse and 
often this recourse is effective because they think it 
is normal and so lose the vicious circle of worry. 
But in severer cases this expedient does not work; 
either no satisfaction is gained (perhaps there may 
be psychic impotence) or heterosexual promiscuity 
becomes itself compulsive. Physically masturbation 
is self-stimulation of orgasm. Psychologically it is 
incitement of genital sensations without the psychic 
accompaniment of love. When, therefore, a man 
has intercourse with a woman for whom he has no 
affection he is indulging in a practice that is,, for all 
intents and purposes, onanistic. The only difference 
is that in one case he regards the practice as abnor- 
mal and in the other thinks it normal. But from 
the standpoint of psychosexual development the 
whoremonger is no nearer the goal of intercourse as 
an expression of love than is the masturbator. This 
is the reason why the neurotic who cannot attain this 
development, who cannot combine mental and sexual 
regard for the same person is apt to make inter- 
course with prostitutes a compulsive affair. Often, 
poor fellow, he regards himself as a prodigy of 
potency. His real trouble is that for him womankind 
is divided into two classes — "mother" people and 
prostitutes. Having never learned adequately to 



314 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

objectivate his unconscious sexual motivations, any 
woman for whom he has respect is so direct a repre- 
sentative of his mother that a sex tabu hangs over 
her. If he tries to marry, there is a domestic 
tragedy. 

The girl who masturbates and loses herself in sex 
fantasies, if she does not succeed in distracting her- 
self to more normal interests, is apt to develop a 
prudish attitude towards life. Socially she is for- 
ever being shocked by any frank statement or refer- 
ence, while in the seclusion of her chamber she in- 
dulges in endless erotic ruminations. Since such 
thoughts are, for her, the essence of sin, she sin- 
cerely regards all sex as wicked and, when she mar- 
ries is anesthetic or actively frigid. Very commonly 
she develops a monstrous fear of childbirth that may 
lead to hysterical vomiting during pregnancy or 
other unconscious protests against the responsibili- 
ties she has assumed. Her baby (if he is so unfor- 
tunate as to survive) is treated for years as part of 
her own body and fondled with auto-erotic zeal. 

There are three stages in direction of objectiva- 
tion through which one passes during adolescent de- 
velopment. They are of importance psychopatho- 
logically because the subject may not be able to pass 
beyond either of the first two and is then incapable 
of fulfilling his sexual destiny adequately. During 
the period of psychological puberty the child's ob- 
jectivation is essentially of the (Edipus type. There 
may be latently a great deal of self-love but this is 
more noticeable objectively in his behavior than 
subjectively. With physical puberty and the begin- 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 315 

ning of adolescence come the three stages of nar- 
cissism, homosexuality and heterosexuality. The 
first and last of these represent in sexual labels 
adaptations that are essential for normal develop- 
ment. 

The narcissist is one who loves himself. This does 
not necessarily mean his body, although masturba- 
tion is frequently a physical expression of the love. 
The affection is for himself as a personality. He 
has an ego-ideal and he knows it. The child may 
be self-centered and selfish without the conscious- 
ness of self which is the core of narcissism. If a 
child is to break away from nursery attachments 
and nursery habits of thought and emotion, he must 
attach his libido to some one other than his mother. 
Also, before he can take his place in the world as an 
individual, he must self-consciously see himself act- 
ing in it as an independent agent. He is visualizing 
himself in the world's arena in his fantasies of ad- 
venture and achievement, which, as we have seen, 
prefigure his actual accomplishments. Because his 
libido is all (or almost all) going to this object he 
exaggerates his importance outrageously. But with- 
out some self glorification he probably could not 
succeed in declaring his independence of parental 
influence. As noted in an earlier chapter the 
''unity" complex drives parents to the domination 
of children, who must rebel sooner or later if the 
world is to advance. Without adolescent conceit 
few boys or girls could stand out against the mani- 
festly greater wisdom and experience of their 
parents and declare their independent views on 



316 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

social and religious matters. The youth who has 
not this inflated ego is apt with difference of opinion 
to be thrown into most painful conflict. Naturally 
fixation at this point embarrasses success in later 
life or makes it impossible. 

The homosexual phase is of less importance but 
is still useful. "With the accession of sex conscious- 
ness the other sex cease to be merely other young of 
the same species. Before this time, "He unabashed 
her garter saw," now the boy is painfully aware of 
it even though it be not visible. This embarrassment 
does not extend to others of the same sex, however, 
so it is easier to mix with the latter. But this 
rapproachement is not entirely a negative matter. 
The adolescent is drawn to those who have the same 
problems to face as he, the "unity" complex drives 
him to consort with those who think as he does. A 
dominant topic of interest being sex, erotic discus- 
sion and initiation is common. Both boys and girls 
lead each other to masturbate and actual homosexual 
practices are much commoner in the early teens than 
are usually supposed. But no label of "degeneracy" 
is placed on these acts and in the ordinary course of 
events they soon are discontinued. Many an adult 
can recall without much effort experiences of this 
time of life, which, had they come ten or fifteen years 
later would have filled him (or her) with horror. 
This is the period when boys have "chums" and 
girls have "crushes." Provided these attachments 
are temporary or moderate, they not only do no 
harm but are positively useful, for they teach the 
practice of self-abnegation, service and cooperation 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 317 

that is essential for objective love. Unfortunately 
circumstances often combine to exaggerate and pro- 
long this period unduly so that the subject becomes 
fixed in merely homosexual adaptations and is in- 
different or antagonistic to the other sex. Such 
circumstances are the too exclusive and persistent 
segregation of the sexes at this age, coupled with 
lack of opportunity for expressions of energy in 
other ways, or, most important of all, the definite 
seduction of a younger person by one whose greater 
age and experience gives an authority, and a 
sanction to the relationship that dignify it per- 
manently. 

The group of boys who are playing at this homo- 
sexual level take delight in vaunting manliness and 
despising girls who have not their physical capaci- 
ties. (There is much symbolization of anatomic 
differences here.) Similarly the group of girls re- 
gard boys as rough and rude. But soon there are 
defaulters from the brotherhood, who, followed by 
the jeers of the rather jealous faithful, sneak away 
for some mild flirtation with one of the other sex. 
One by one the band is broken up as instinct calls 
imperiously for its normal fruition. Heterosexual 
adaptation has begun. 

The distinctive characteristic of this last and 
adult development is that the demands, created by 
the series of sex instinct motivations we have been 
discussing, are fully met by emotional outlets gained 
in adult relations and vocations. The mother — un- 
conscious mate — can be represented by the wife, the 
pristine rival, the father, can be defeated in the per- 



318 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sons of business or professional rivals. The lust 
for creation is satisfied with the procreation of 
children and accomplishment in one's vocation. 
These represent ideal achievements ; most of us fail 
of complete or consistent consummation of this 
adaptation. To write in detail of the way in which 
failure occurs would require a whole treatise on 
psychopathology. We must be content with mere 
mention of the general ways in which regression to 
earlier types of interest is initiated. There are three 
of them. 

First, a personal recipient of affection such as a 
wife or close friend may die or be estranged; or — ■ 
what is psychologically equivalent — some business 
or professional outlet may be blocked by untoward 
accident. If the subject is dowered with the proper 
degree of elasticity some new outlet is found or the 
interest bound up in the relationship or project that 
has lapsed is added to other existing outlets. Other- 
wise regression, often to complete infantility may 
take place. 

Second, the responsibilities of the existing situa- 
tion may be increased beyond the emotional capacity 
of the individual. A good example of this comes 
with the birth of another child to a woman (more 
rarely a man) whose resources are already taxed in 
maintenance of the status quo. It must be borne in 
mind that marriage makes a more exorbitant de- 
mand for adaptation than any other class of situa- I 
tion we know about. Not only must affection be 
focused on the partner and children but independ- 
ence of movement and opinion are inevitably cur- 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 319 

tailed. The man or woman who gets married aban- 
dons personal liberty in its most intimate aspects 
and enters into an agreement, which would be re- 
garded as purest servitude, were it not voluntarily 
espoused and presumed to offer supreme compen- 
sation in emotional delight. Unless this consolation 
is adequate, the married man or woman is constantly 
liable to regress psychologically. When a child is 
born not only are responsibilities increased but the 
bond is forged more tightly. The task is too 
great and unconscious motivations seek directer 
expression. 

Third, complexes may be specifically inflated by 
some environmental event that represents the 
achievement of some unconscious ambition. For 
instance a harried wife may yearn for some lighten- 
ing of her load that is unconsciously translated in 
terms of diminution of the family. She responds 
with pathological worry over the health of her chil- 
dren. Then comes the illness or death of one of 
them. The unconscious "wish" is fulfilled, which 
acts as a stimulus to all allied motivations. Or, 
again, the original rival in the GEdipus setting of the 
infantile love story may die. To the unconscious 
this means that the way is open for possession of 
the mother, so that tendency surges up, or tends 
to do so. 

The argument concerning sex instinct motivations 
may be epitomized as follows : 

The sexual proclivities of man do not represent 
the workings of a simple instinct. They have at 
least two directions, a lust for peculiar bodily sensa- 



320 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

tion and an urge for propagation. The first (allied 
with ego instincts) begins with auto-erotism, a blind, 
protopathic-like stimulation and response of the 
body which exists without consciousness in the ordi- 
nary sense of that term. Contrasted with this is 
object attachment, an essential component of the 
procreative tendency which appears with the devel- 
opment of consciousness and is expressed in the 
CEdipus fantasy. Sex consciousness is associated 
with this attachment and also repression. The three 
phenomena of consciousness, objectivation and re- 
pression are correlated and together make up an 
epicritic-like development. As psychosexual life 
proceeds the struggle between the primitive impulse 
for sterile physical satisfaction and the biological 
urge for mating and procreation results in the re- 
pression of some elements of body pleasure and the 
utilization of others. Acuity of sensibility is fo- 
cused in the genitalia and, in appropriate situations, 
is available for display of typical "protopathic" 
intensity and affective quality. Affection for parents 
represents merely a passing and unsatisfactory com- 
promise between these two factors, because it is an 
almost wholly selfish relationship without the ele- 
ment of equal cooperation that is necessary in 
mating and also because it is biologically false, 
involving as it does in-breeding. Its crudely sexual 
potentialities are repressed and from the most cen- 
tral and powerful of the unconscious sex motivations. 
When first repressed the sexual implications of the 
relationship are vague but it becomes more and more 



SEX INSTINCTS AND THEIR MOTIVATIONS 321 

literally incest as the sophistication of the child ad- 
vances. The great problem of life is the adaptation 
of such unconscious motivations to socially useful 
outlets in indirect and symbolic form. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE HERD INSTINCTS 

The third group of instincts which we have to 
discuss differs from the ego and the sex instincts in 
two general respects. The instincts so far con- 
sidered are more fundamental, biologically, because 
self-preservation and reproduction are necessary 
functions of practically all animals, while herd life 
is an adaptation found only in certain species or 
genera. (On the other hand the distribution is 
diversified for communality is found in quite unre- 
lated phyla.) Secondly, since the herd instinct has 
no meaning unless associated with herd life, it is 
necessarily highly modifiable in reaction type, by 
stimuli from the society in which the individual lives. 
That is, one's herd reactions are essentially con- 
nected with the reactions of the group, while the 
motivations by which the other instincts are ex- 
pressed are much more fixed and rigid. Of course 
one 's sex reactions vary with environmental change. 
In the presence of one woman the conduct of a man 
is different from that in his association with an- 
other. But still he follows in the main pattern reac- 
tions resulting from repressions and unconscious 
elaborations of years gone by. Herd instinct moti- 
vations are not personally elaborated by the indi- 

322 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 323 

vidual but by the group and then adopted by the 
individual. Hence a change in national standards of 
conduct — as for instance with a change from peace 
to war — may lead a man to take keen pleasure in 
killing which previously would have filled him with 
horror. 

Although many psychologists and sociologists 
have spoken vaguely about the herd instinct (or in- 
stincts) — Trotter was the first, so far as I know, to 
undertake any helpful analysis of its mode of opera- 
tion. He points out that man is a herd animal apart 
from his behavior when acting in immediate concert 
with other people. In other words that the instinct 
is acting when a man is thinking or living alone as 
well as when he is one of a mob. The chief exhi- 
bition of this action he finds in tendencies to derive 
comfort from thinking as other people do and dis- 
comfort in thinking differently. Hence we are prone 
to adopt the opinions and beliefs in business life, 
philosophy, religion or science, of our neighbors. 
We do not do this after dispassionate weighing of 
evidence but accept their views uncritically and un- 
wittingly. Having once taken over such thoughts, 
we usually regard them as our own independent 
conclusions and offer allegedly logical argument in 
their support, by which logic we are convinced of 
their originality. This secondary process Trotter 
called "rationalization." It was popularized in 
psychoanalytic literature by Ernest Jones, but it is 
to Trotter that we owe the original conception. His 
contribution to the study of conflict we shall come 
to later. 



324 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

This rationalization tendency points to the fact 
that we dislike the thought of not forming our own 
opinions and that there is some antagonism between 
individual, intellectual activity and acceptance of 
" group thinking." There is considerable evidence 
as to this contrast in functions. Those of highest 
intelligence are as a rule most independent in their 
views, while egoism (necessarily correlated with 
relative weakness of herd instinct) unquestionably 
facilitates independent intelligence. On the other 
hand the feeble-minded show an exaggerated docility 
to group opinion. Hence the feeble-minded boy may 
be a criminal if placed in a bad environment but 
within a short time after transference to a good 
home or institution be a docile, altruistic person. 
We see no such rapid changes in the intellectually 
normal with purely environmental treatment. Also 
we find a rough parallelism between refinement of 
civilization with its greater latitude for individual 
intelligence and a weakening of herd instinct. The 
savage never questions the theories or practices of 
his people while the European does, although the 
latter compromises by formation of small groups in 
which opinions different from those of the masses 
may be comfortably held. 

If contrast and relative incompatibility between 
intelligence and conformity exist it would only be 
reasonable to infer that the latter is an instinctive 
phenomenon. And, indeed, these manifestations do 
show in a fairly complete way the three character- 
istics which Rivers posits for instincts. They tend 
to follow the * ' all-or-none ' ' law. A middle ground 



/ THE HERD INSTINCTS 325 

is hard to hold. One cannot agree with a solid group 
of people (i.e., a real "herd") and preserve inde- 
pendent judgment. "He who is not for us is against 
us" sums up this state of affairs. The individual 
feels this and either enters or stays out of the 
group. 1 The second criterion is certainly present. 
These phenomena are unreflective or they are noth- 
ing. The third that of the reaction being immediate 
and uncontrolled, holds true when the instinct is 
expressed in a reaction rather than a motivation. 
There are few kinds of conduct less immediate and 
controlled than the pillaging of a mob. During a 
war all our enemies are inhuman monsters. At the 
height of a political campaign all opponents are 

1 The present day decay of the Church is probably thus to be ex- 
plained. Eight to individual opinion and interpretation is being 
granted more and more. If faith becomes individual, there is no 
need for communal exercise of the rites that go with faith. Re- 
ligious organization is and must be founded on dogma and intoler- 
ance. As the latter are no longer popular, social caste has largely 
been substituted for community of faith as the cement of church 
organizations. Since castes have other means of expressing their 
cohesion the churches have not gained by this exchange of motifs. 

If the religious spirit or attitude be ingrained in man (as I 
believe it is) this must tend with the dissolution of church power 
to be expressed in mundane affairs. In more primitive societies prac- 
tically nothing can be done which has not some religious significance. 
For generations we have been dissociating worldly and sanctified 
activities. Now we may be reassociating them. Certainly much of 
the psychology of religion can be seen in trade-unions, socialism, 
political groups, etc., schools of thought and sometimes in business. 
The religious component is now, however, unconscious and discover- 
able only by analysis. One hope of civilization may be a further 
evolution which makes this "religion" conscious, controllable and 
not a component introducing irrationality along with enthusiasm and 
devotion. 



326 PEOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

grafters and traitors. Finally we should note that 
herd reactions, like other instinctive phenomena are 
apt to be emotional. The affect of comfort that goes 
with uniformity of thought and action is hard to 
describe but is nevertheless definite. Further they 
tend to show irrational persistence. 

Herd instincts operate both positively and nega- 
tively. "We shall discuss the former exhibitions first. 
These are of two types : like the other instincts show- 
ing reactions in emergencies and motivations of 
longer duration. 

Herd instinct reactions appear most plainly when 
the group as such is on the offensive or defensive. 
A mob in full career gives an excellent example, the 
individual forgets himself and follows the "voice of 
the herd," as Trotter calls it, with extraordinary 
obedience. Similarly there is a sudden cohesiveness 
in a country launched into war. Trotter gives ex- 
cellent examples of this. Election phenomena are 
instructive in this connection. If an issue be raised 
that represents (or is made to represent) a threat to 
the nation's integrity a landslide may occur at the 
polls that is utterly unpredictable by those best in 
touch with the political situation. An excellent ex- 
ample of this was the election by which the Laurier 
Government was ejected from power in Canada. 
The big issue of the campaign was a proposed trade 
reciprocity with the United States. The slogan was 
raised that this would jeopardize the independence 
of Canada. As the polls were closing political work- 
ers, who should have known the conscious temper 
of the electorate, were offering even money on the 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 327 

result. Yet in a few hours it was seen that a land- 
slide had ' ' saved ' ' Canada from reciprocity and that 
old members of the Laurier Government who before 
had been practically unopposed in their solid con- 
stituencies had received only a handful of votes. 
Unwittingly the word had been passed from voter 
to voter that reciprocity was not to be. This is of 
course a striking example as it shows how individu- 
als may respond to a group decision without that 
decision being previously voiced in a conscious way. 
Yet every election shows similar phenomena in a 
smaller way. The political parties gain a cohesive- 
ness they never enjoy between elections and personal 
independence (as in all herd reactions) is lost or 
largely lost for the period of the emergency. But 
the great example of herd activity is war. When 
" morale" is properly developed the military unit 
acts with concert not achievable by mere- obedience 
to command and the individual loses his individu- 
ality to such an extent that he ceases to have any 
regard whatever for his personal safety. And an 
army in panic shows the unwitting spread of the 
herd decision for flight in an exquisite manner. 

Among savages whose lives are much more com- 
munal than ours, less dramatic occasions are needed 
for the display of these phenomena. Eivers gives 
some excellent examples, 1 which are worthy of quo- 
tation in extenso. 

"When in the Solomon Islands in 190S with Mr. A. M. Hocart 
we spent some time in a schooner visiting different parts of the 
island of Yella Lavella. Whenever we were going ashore five of 

1 Vide supra, p. 94 seq. 



328 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the crew would row us in the whale-boat, four rowing and the 
fifth taking the steer-oar. As soon as we announced our inten- 
tion to go ashore, five of the crew would at once separate from 
the rest and man the boat ; one would go to the steer-oar and the 
others to the four thwarts. Never once was there any sign of 
disagreement or doubt which of the ship's company should man 
the boat, nor was there ever any hesitation who should take the 
steer-oar, though, at any rate according to our ideas, the coxswain 
had a far easier and more interesting task than the rest. It is 
possible that there was some understanding by which the mem- 
bers of the crew arranged who should undertake the different 
kinds of work, but we could discover no evidence whatever of 
any such arrangement. The harmony seems to have been due to 
such delicacy of social adjustment that the intention of five of 
the members of the crew to man the boat and of one to take the 
steer-oar was at once intuited by the rest. Such an explanation 
of the harmony is in agreement with many other aspects of the 
social behaviour of Melanesian or other lowly peoples. When 
studying the warfare of the people of the Western Solomons I 
was unable to discover any evidence of definite leadership. When 
a boat reached the scene of a head-hunting foray, there was no 
regulation who should lead the way. It seemed as if the first 
man who got out of the boat or chose to lead the way was followed 
without question. Again, in the councils of such people there is 
no voting or other means of taking the opinion of the body. 
The people seem to recognize instinctively, using this much mis- 
used word in the strict sense, that some definite line of action 
shall be taken. Those who have lived among savage or barbarous 
peoples in several parts of the world have related how they have 
attended native councils where matters in which they were inter- 
ested were being discussed. When after a time the English ob- 
server has found that the people were discussing some wholly dif- 
ferent topic, and has inquired when they were going to decide the 
question in which he was interested, he has been told that it had 
already been decided and that they had passed to other busi- 
ness. The decision had been made with none of the processes by 
which our councils or committees decide disputed points. The 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 329 

members of the council have become aware at a certain point that 
they are in agreement, and it was not necessary to bring the agree- 
ment explicitly to notice." 

Children sometimes show cooperation in their play 
that is strikingly like the behavior described by 
Rivers. They will play " house" or " school" or 
''railway," each child playing a separate role and 
fitting it in with the actions of the others, when the 
verbal agreement preceding the game is much less 
extensive than that which adults would need. Of 
course this unity is often disturbed by the insistence 
of several children on playing the leading role. A 
phenomenon of extraordinary interest and one that 
should be investigated psychologically is that of the 
seasonal rotation of purely childish games, games 
for which there are no printed rules. Why do boys 
bring out their marbles at one season, tops at an- 
other and kites at a third? They seem to follow 
some powerful influence the nature of which they 
do not know nor question. This is quite like many 
savage customs. 

The motivations of the herd instincts are differ- 
ent from those of the ego and sex instincts in one 
most important particular. The energy directed by 
the herd instinct is not incorporated in an internally 
evolved motivation but adopts a formulation sup- 
plied by the group. The most obvious of these are 
codified laws and consciously recognized traditions 
and conventions. Of course one element of obedi- 
ence to these institutions is intellectual. We recog- 
nize the consequence of disobedience. But our com- 
pliance goes further than that. Most people will not 



330 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

steal although immune from discovery. When any 
but a professional criminal commits a serious crime 
his guilt may betray him. Why should he feel guilt, 
if his objection to crime is purely a conscious recog- 
nition of consequences? To take a glaring example, 
how hungry a man must be before he will eat human 
flesh and what a revulsion of feeling it then causes ! 
Again we all know how necessary for the enforce- 
ment of any law is the " moral sentiment" of the 
community. In fact the unwritten law binds people 
much more than that which is codified and therefore 
enforceable by the police. Conformity with con- 
vention, whether that be formulated or not, is not 
merely a matter of habit. When society lifts any 
ban our emotional reactions are apt to alter quickly, 
habit only serves to retard the change slightly. For 
instance we have horror of shedding blood or killing 
fellow men. Yet a declaration of war is enough to 
change the revulsion of feeling into a pleasurable lust. 
These motivations are wittingly recognized. So- 
ciety also issues its mandates in a form recognizable 
by intuition alone. , Ostracism can be commanded 
without a word being spoken. A room full of people 
can show interest in or disapproval of one guest's 
conversation or actions in ways which no novelist 
could adequately describe. The mechanisms by 
which agreements of a mass of people are reached 
are nevertheless worthy objects of psychological 
study. So far as I know Martin J is the only one who 
has contributed liberally to this type of enquiry. 

1 Everett Dean Martin, "The Behavior of Crowds," New York, 
Harper Bros., 1920. 



THE HEKD INSTINCTS 331 

With the exception of some conventions that are 
not put into words most of our herd motivations are 
codified. As we descend, however, in the scale of 
civilization we find less law (in the lawyer's sense) 
and more custom. The savage has few definite 
crimes against which he must legislate although his 
life is hedged about with restrictions so (to him) 
self-evident that they need not be taught by precept. 
One difficulty in the researches of anthropologists is 
that they have to ask savages about laws and rules 
of which they are not accustomed to think as legis- 
lative enactments but in terms of behavior. Place 
the savage in a certain situation and something tells 
him what he should or should not do. His obedience 
to this uncodified dictate is unquestioned and com- 
plete. Here again we see the unwritten law as the 
powerful one. In fact when we make conformity a 
legislative matter, that is, more intellectual and less 
instinctive, it at once begins to lose its power. A 
lawyer would starve in Melanesia! On the other 
hand conventions and customs that are not reduced 
to words have not been made fully conscious and 
hence are not subject to logical criticism. Only the 
codified law can be rational. Our mental evolution 
has proceeded to the point where legal rationality 
seems inevitably to be associated with proportionate 
indifference to it. 

We have covered, roughly and schematically, the 
positive manifestations of the herd instincts. They 
contribute specific phenomena in our mental lives. 
Do they inhibit as well? Or do these instincts alter- 
nate with the ego and sex? The answer is that both 



332 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

types of reaction occur. Just as direct threat to the 
ego will cause a pure ego-instinct reaction, so direct 
threat to the group will cause the individual to 
abandon ego and sex activities and surcharge his 
consciousness with exclusively herd ideals. For 
instance at the outbreak of war many men feel com- 
pelled to leave business, wives and friends to join 
the colors. That this behavior is instinctive is indi- 
cated by the fact that this compulsion may occur 
without any further stimulus than the declaration 
of war and before any social or legislative pressure 
is brought to bear. As to the inhibiting functions, 
we would expect these to exist because, as Trotter 
pointed out, man is a chronically herd animal and 
the inner motivation of uniformity must come into 
conflict with the automatic tendencies for direct ex- 
pression of such ego and sex impulses as are banned 
by society. "Conscience" may be regarded as the 
affectively colored recognition of what the group 
demands, or prohibits in conduct. Hence the con- 
science of a European may be different from that of 
a Chinese or Hindu. The affective coloring, which 
distinguishes conscience from the purely intellectual 
judgment of expediency, is derived from herd 
instinct. 

Many crude exhibitions of ego tendencies are of 
necessity inimical to the interests of society so the 
occasion for conflict in this connection is obvious. 
The sex inhibitions are more complicated. In his- 
torical times social attitudes towards different forms 
of sex indulgence have varied a great deal. In 
Greece of the classical period homosexuality was not 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 333 

only tolerated but certain aspects of the relationship 
were actually honored. Now a suggestion of "de- 
generacy" horrifies the average man. Similarly in 
civilizations of European origin the attitude towards 
promiscuous heterosexuality shows considerable va- 
riation. Conflicts that rage over unconscious (or 
conscious) temptations in these directions are mani- 
festly connected with herd standards, to which we 
feel an inner compulsion of obedience, presumably 
founded on gregarious instinct. On the other hand 
repression of incest is a much more widely spread 
phenomenon and acts more consistently and thor- 
oughly. So effectual is it that even warm embraces 
between blood relations can occur without any con- 
sciousness of sex appearing although the subjects 
may not have much inhibition of ordinary sex 
thoughts. In fact this repression de-sexes a woman 
for most men if she be a mother or sister. There 
are laws concerning incest, it is true, but, taking the 
population of our civilized countries as a whole it is 
safe to assume that these laws are known only to 
the sophisticated and the term "incest" itself is 
unknown to many if not most people. Moreover the 
thing itself is rarely discussed. Manifestly, then, 
this repression cannot be due to the absorption of 
current opinion. Then, too, it begins to operate at a 
time of life when conventions have comparatively 
little power and are only vaguely realized and, as has 
been noted, it may appear in the absence of any 
specific disapprobation on the part of the child's 
elders. These latter details indicate its instinctive 
quality, the former its fundamental and well-nigh 



334 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

universal character. How and whence is this par- 
ticular repression derived? 

In the first place one notes that it seems to have 
certain biological analogies. Nature seems to try 
to prevent in-breeding. The phenomena are well 
known with plants. The pistils of the flowers in one 
plant ripen before or after the stamens. In others 
where insects are the agents of fertilizations there 
may be most elaborate anatomical specializations 
which seem to have no function unless it be to pre- 
vent the insect which is reaching for honey carrying 
pollen from stamens to pistil of the same plant. 
Among most animals scattering of the family group 
occurs when the young reach sexual maturity. This 
may be instinctive. A custom reported of beavers, 
who live a communal life, is plainly so. "When the 
young are mature they are driven from the parental 
house and have to build new houses for themselves. 
What with scattering or active separation the 
chances of in-breeding are slight among the animals. 

Now man is not only a herd animal but the family 
group is maintained long after the time of sex ma- 
turity is reached, at least among civilized peoples. 
Under these circumstances, — to which should be 
added the fact that parents give children just the 
kind of intimate attention which is sexually exciting 
outside the home, — incest would be both inevitable 
and universal were there not some inhibition in 
operation. Since instincts work blindly against in- 
cest in animals and repression operates against it 
specifically among civilized people, one naturally 
would like to know what intermediate phases there 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 335 

may be. The custom known as exogamy among 
savages is highly suggestive on this point. 

Tribes are divided into exogamous groups which 
means that, after puberty initiation rites are com- 
plete, any woman of group A is tabu for a man of 
that group and the latter must marry one of group 
B. The interpretation of this widespread custom 
is a matter of much dispute among anthropologists 
but the following seems a reasonable explanation 
from a psychological standpoint. When exogamy 
prevails matrilineal institutions also exist as a rule, 
i.e., children belong to the mother, or rather the 
mother's family, the father having no jurisdiction 
over them. This institution is not only understand- 
able but seems inevitable if one considers that 
knowledge of the physiology of conception is still 
quite vague among many savage peoples and is 
inevitably a recent acquisition in primitive society. 1 
The tracing of connection between copulation to-day 
and childbirth ten lunar months hence is no small 
feat of scientific observation and inference. If a 
woman becomes pregnant of eating rice, bathing in 
a certain stream, being exposed to a full moon, etc., 
the child naturally belongs exclusively to her or her 
family. We can therefore conclude that matrilineal 
descent and exogamy are (or were) correlated with 
ignorance of paternity. The fact that they may only 
rarely coexist now proves nothing because human 
institutions are notoriously tenacious of life long 
after the occasion fortheir establishment has passed 

S E. S. Hartland, "Primitive Paternity," David Nutt, London, 
1909. 



336 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

away. Outside of such restrictions as exogamy, 
sexual promiscuity is apt to be free among these 
peoples. Granted herd life, promiscuity and igno- 
rance of paternity what could prevent in-breeding 
except such an institution as exogamy? Incest, so 
far as these people know the conception, which with 
them is a matter of marrying with a "father" group 
man or a "mother" group woman, is taken care of 
effectually by exogamy. But they did not arrive at 
this conclusion as a result of logical argument ; had 
they done so, incest only in the specific sense of the 
term would have been tabu. It must be a custom 
which gives an expression to instinct. This custom 
may be looked on as something intermediate be- 
tween pure instinct and codified law such as we 
enjoy. But as children our repressions were like 
the savage exogamy, being directed against sexual 
ideas in connection with "mother" people rather 
than the individual mother, who stood as a represen- 
tative of the group which was tabu. 

The next problem is, whence comes the instinct? 
Is it sexual or herd or neither ? If it be sexual then 
we must assume that in addition to the pleasure 
aspects and the propagation aspects, sex instincts 
must also contain a highly discriminative element 
looking towards a peculiarly fitting kind of propa- 
gation. Were this so, we would expect sexual activ- 
ities that were not directed towards propagation at 
all to be as universally banned. But homosexuality 
is not, nor is masturbation. In fact many an adoles- 
cent practices masturbation with practically no 
revulsion of feeling until he is instructed as to its 



THE HEED INSTINCTS 337 

perniciousness. On the other hand incest horror 
has grown up with social development. In fact it 
is the advance of material comfort which makes pos- 
sible the continuance of the youth in the home after 
sexual maturity has been reached. Of course their 
coincidence does not establish identity of origin. 
We may be dealing with an instinct different from 
sex or herd as ordinarily described. But since the 
other repressions are rather plainly associated with 
herd instincts it is expedient to class this one here 
too. If we speak of herd instincts rather than herd 
instinct we can make no grave error. This group of 
instincts has, then, as one of its functions chronic 
repressions and one of them — we cannot further 
specify which one — motivates an antagonism to the 
idea of incest. 

We should not leave this topic without mention- 
ing the phenomenon of actual incest. Unfortunately 
we know nothing about this psychiatrically. Ex- 
tensive research into the nature of the other mental 
processes in the perpetrators of this crime might 
enlarge our knowledge of the CEdipus repression. 
Occasionally incest occurs in plainly psychopathic 
individuals, when it may be regarded as a sudden 
surging up of the unconscious motivation, analo- 
gous to the delusions so frequently observed in de- 
mentia praecox. These cases do not necessarily 
present any great problem. Most frequently, how- 
ever, it is met with in the definitely and unquestion- 
ably lower classes. What is the psychology of these 
people? We must remember that what is repressed 
is not the real mother but an Imago. Yet with most 



338 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

people the real mother stands for the Imago in many 
ways. Do these " degenerates" lack this identifi- 
cation? In their other reactions do they fail to be- 
have differently towards mothers, sisters or daugh- 
ters than towards other women! An investigator 
who studied a large group of these cases carefully 
might find that alcoholic intoxication was often or 
always present. Under its influence the unconscious 
often is liberated and, at the same time, recognition 
of the environment is difficult. The perpetrator of 
the crime might recognize his victim only as a fe- 
male. Again one might find that this disordered 
state of consciousness was manufactured ad hoc, as 
is so often the case in hysteria and epilepsy. Dog- 
matism as to the repression of incest will not be 
justifiable until such researches are carried out. 
Yet they will be difficult for it is no easy matter to 
get accurate histories from patients and relatives 
who have no education and no experience of intro- 
spection; at the same time only nice psychological 
discrimination will be of any value. 

Sanger Brown in his contribution to the sym- 
posium on instincts mentioned above, makes an in- 
teresting claim. He thinks that " collective 
thinking," an expression of herd instinct, and de- 
fective sense of individual personality are correlated 
tendencies and that similar phenomena are present 
in the psychoses, in dreams and in childhood. All 
these would then be expressions of herd instinct. 

It may be well to enumerate these phenomena. 
Many examples (such as those quoted from Rivers 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 339 

above) show that many savages have not individ- 
uality of thought such as we enjoy but that they 
rather tend to think collectively, not only in the 
construction of their myths and customs but also in 
their daily occupations. This has been called 
1 'group thought" or "group consciousness." 1 Some 
anthropologists ally with this the habit of ascribing 
life and influence to inanimate objects, that is, the 
general principle of animism. To quote Sanger 
Brown: 

"For example, a savage felt that anything which was near and 
dear to him, such as his weapons or his trinkets, actually became 
a part of his own individuality. He thought that if any one 
destroyed these possessions or weapons they could thereby do 
injury to him. This belief worked out in curious ways. He be- 
lieved that an enemy, by gaining possession of bits of his hair 
or his clothing or other possessions, could make him ill by magical 
performances upon these things. It is stated that one effect 
which this belief had, was to make members of one group or 
moiety of the tribe always suspicious of members of the other 
group. Individuals of different groups were never quite at ease 
in each other's company. They feared domination from an enemy 
by means of this outside influence, somewhat as a paranoid patient 
feels domination from an influence from without." 

He then follows one school of anthropology in 
the argument that the primitive savage before evolv- 
ing anthropomorphic gods has nature deities, de- 

1 It should of course be borne clearly in mind that this is a dif- 
ferent phenomenon from that alleged by Jung to exist in the "col- 
lective unconscious." Jung's conception is of inherited ideas be- 
longing to all mankind. "Group consciousness" refers definitely 
to acquired mental processes. It is a term for the phenomenon of 
a group of people unwittingly acting and reacting on each other 
to produce ideas which are common to all when they become conscious. 



340 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

picted in representations of clouds, mountains, seas, 
etc., and that these images were like what he con- 
ceived his own personality to be. 

An analogous psychology exists in the animistic 
stage of childhood. It is a question whether the 
symbolic thinking and the vague feelings of influ- 
ence observed in dementia prsecox and other psy- 
choses may not be an atavistic return to this 
evolutionary phase of mental development. They 
may represent a lack of integration of personality 
and individual consciousness. Dreams often show 
similar phenomena, personal and even bodily indi- 
viduality may be lost and the dreamer feel he is in 
several places at once or that his dismembered parts 
are floating through space. 

In his argument Sanger Brown makes use of a 
book ' ' Themis ' ' which Miss Jane Harrison has writ- 
ten on the methods of thinking in savages. She, 
in turn, has followed the French school of anthro- 
pology, who seek to explain the fundamental 
differences between our own and savage thinking by 
the assumption that the more primitive men enjoy a 
"prelogical" type of thinking that is characterized 
by what this school calls "collective representa- 
tions." Levy-Bruhl 1 has attempted a definite 
analysis of this type of mentation and finds that 
the differences from civilized thought can be 
classified under two headings. One is positive and 
the other negative. The former he calls the "law 
of participation, ' ' while the latter is that the savage 

1 ' ' Les Fonctions mentales dans les Societes inf erieures, ' ' Paris, 
1910. 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 341 

can hold beliefs which to our minds are flatly con- 
tradictory. It is the law of participation that enables 
a savage to believe that a part of his body, snch as 
his hair, which may be removed from the rest of his 
body, still remains part of it and that action on this 
detached portion can affect him. Rivers 1 has at- 
tacked this school from an anthropological stand- 
point, directing his criticism particularly against 
the alleged lack of recognition of contradiction. He 
shows that before one can properly evaluate the 
beliefs of a savage one must know the details and 
history of his standpoint. As he points out, a sav- 
age visiting our civilization might easily conclude 
that we were backward, because we have no names 
for concepts he enjoys and because there are con- 
tradictions in our beliefs. In the same way one 
may say that we do not believe our shorn locks have 
life in them or are still parts of ourselves, because 
we are dominated by materialistic knowledge and 
philosophy that excludes such a notion. The savage 
may have theories of individuality, as internally 
logical as our own, but which strike us as illogical 
because we hold a different philosophy of life. Such 
criticisms weaken the force of the arguments of the 
French anthropologist school and make it unwise 
for psychologists to take as proven the claims of 
only one section of those who are interested in 
human culture. 

But this does not mean their material is valueless. 
On the contrary, if the same tendencies, present in 

»W. H. E. Kivers, "The Primitive Conception of Death," Hibbert 
Journal, Vol. X, No. 2, January, 1912. 



342 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

the savage mind, can be demonstrated amongst our- 
selves, the study of primitive peoples serves to light 
our way to the observation of rather universal 
human traits. For instance, the law of participation 
is not unknown amongst ourselves. Would not a 
savage observing us say that when we pay a large 
sum for an autograph, that we hope to gain pos- 
session, thereby, of some of the life or power of the 
signer? Would any one like to see his love-letter 
torn in pieces and stamped upon? There certainly 
are traces amongst ourselves of beliefs (not oper- 
ating wittingly) in a wider kind of personality than 
we are accustomed to avow. 

On the other hand it is questionable whether this 
extension of personality is, strictly speaking, the 
same as animism. If I think a tree has its own 
spirit, I ascribe a personality to it of its own na- 
ture. But if I think my knife has part of my per- 
sonality, it has not its own spirit but merely part of 
mine. The tree having a spirit is animism. The 
knife's spirit is an example of the principle of par- 
ticipation. Symbolism may be derived from either 
source. Herd instinct may have an influence on 
each, although as we have seen in Chapter XIV both 
diffuse consciousness, and animism can arise nat- 
urally in early life before social influence plays any 
role whatever. This influence differs somewhat in 
the two cases, but before discussing this we must 
consider the relationship of herd instinct to the sense 
of reality. 

We are accustomed to think that we observe the 
phenomena of nature dispassionately and object- 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 343 

ively and that the sense of what is real comes to 
us as a result of these individual and independent 
observations. Yet everyone who has tried to teach 
science in any form knows what a rare gift this 
really is. As a matter of fact we see what we are 
told to see and are blind to practically all else unless 
its exhibitions be seismic. Similarly we accept theo- 
ries of natural processes as if we had ourselves 
fabricated them. In fact we go so far, in this latter 
direction, as to deny the evidence of our senses. 
An example may make this plainer. We all believe 
that the earth goes around the sun, although prob- 
ably not more than one in every hundred thousand 
of us could either prove it, nor knows the method 
of observation and argument which originally 
promulgated this view. At the same time, in hold- 
ing this theory as a fact, we disbelieve the evidence 
of our senses. Every day the sun plainly goes 
around the earth — or (because that statement im- 
plies a round world) everyday we see the sun come 
up on one side of a flat earth and disappear at night 
on the other. The first man who said the earth 
moved was not treated kindly by his neighbors; 
now the man who denies its motion is called insane. 
From the standpoint of individual observation and 
logical deduction therefrom, the first persecutors 
were in a safer position. As an example of failure 
to observe an obvious phenomenon I may mention 
the case of a biologist who had done good research 
work ; at the age of thirty he had his attention drawn 
for the first time to the fact that a new moon appears 
in the West and that a moon seen in the East is a 



344 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

waning moon. Thereafter, he told me, he saw this 
so regularly that anyone who failed to observe it 
seemed like an imbecile to him. Our fondness for 
acceptance of group ideas goes to quite absurd 
lengths when we maintain beliefs concerning phe- 
nomena of which nobody knows anything — or much. 
For instance we hold strong opinions about the 
reality or unreality of ghosts, yet no one has ever 
investigated occult phenomena with sufficient thor- 
oughness to justify him in holding dogmatic views 
one way or the other. 1 

We have stultified individual intelligence in gain- 
ing the unanimity essential to herd life. A solitary 
animal possessed of man's intellectual equipment 
would soon abandon animism and the principle of 
participation. Having no group to fall back upon 
for protection, he would have to develop an inde- 

* The whole question of insight in the psychoses is, of course, 
bound up with this matter of accepting the current interpretation 
of reality. An abnormal person holds different views from his fel- 
lows. They may be progressive, in which case they are a nearer 
approximation to objective reality than his contemporaries have 
reached and the man is a genius, or they may be regressive and the 
holder of them is insane. In either case society treats the person 
as if he were antisocial, it hates or fears him. When we say that 
a man holds false ideas or that he has no insight, we would be more 
correct if we said he thinks differently from most of us. Insight 
is applying the current sense of reality to one 's own mental processes. 
When people say that genius and insanity are allied, they usually 
are thinking of the fact that both types of thinking are extraordi- 
nary. A more fundamental connection may sometimes exist. Either 
the genius or the lunatic may have an inner urge towards non- 
conformity. If this can utilize a large intelligence, genius may 
be the product rather than insanity. For examples of regressive 
false ideas see: MacCurdy and Treadway, "Constructive Delusions," 
Journal of Abnormal Psychology, August, 1915. 



THE HERD INSTINCTS 345 

pendent sense of reality. Naturally the tribes of 
men who have greatest communality in their lives 
must show the least development of individual crit- 
ical judgment. This tends to prolong the childish 
types of thinking represented in the principle of 
participation and in animism. But there is an im- 
portant difference between the two in the strength 
of the effect, for group thought overdetermines 
participation. The more one sees with the eyes of 
the herd, the less he sees with his own and the less, 
therefore, are his eyes his own. That is he has a 
loose and uncertain sense of his own individuality. 
Group consciousness and personal consciousness are 
mutually antagonistic, when one is strong the 
other is weak. The savage may have a weak sense 
when he begins and ends, on the other hand, we show 
more than traces of collective consciousness. There 
is, therefore, a correlation between herd instinct and 
the range and acuity of consciousness. 



CHAPTER XXII 

THE COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 

So far we have considered the ego, sex and herd 
instinct groups as though they operated separately, 
as indeed they often do. But all these reside in the 
same organism and one situation may tend to stimu- 
late reactions of quite different orders. Conflicts 
must inevitably arise in consequence of this, con- 
flicts which are solved either by the inhibition of 
one kind of reaction or by the appearance of be- 
havior which represents instinctive tendencies of 
more than one order. Mention has been made of 
these conflicts and cooperations several times, but 
now the point is reached when we can take up these 
problems systematically. Anything like a detailed 
discussion of this topic, applying the conclusions 
reached to the solution of clinical problems would 
involve an exhaustive treatise on psychopathology. 
We must be content with a merely schematic treat- 
ment of the subject. 

The first problem is to see what relative impor- 
tance of different groups of instincts could be pre- 
dicted from the biological history and present status 
of civilized man. We have earlier reached the con- 
clusion (Chapter XVIII) that abnormal mental 
states (in so-called functional disease) result from the 

346 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 347 

operation of unconscious forces, which, in turn, are 
unconscious as a result of conflict. This conflict is, 
we assume, something that takes place between in- 
stincts or instinctive derivatives within the individ- 
ual himself. We are therefore interested in the 
discovery of causes for inner, instinctive conflicts. 

In the lowest forms of life the individual is pitted 
against all environmental forces and there can there- 
fore be no inner conflict of any moment. He eats 
when hungry, rests when tired, fights or flees — ac- 
cording to his nature — when in the presence of his 
prey or enemy. If he is faced with danger when 
hungry he attends to the stronger stimulus. This 
contention of stimuli might be said to constitute 
conflict of a mild sort but it is not of the dynamic 
order in which we are interested as psych ©path- 
ologists. The recognition of one stimulus and dis- 
regard of another is essentially an intellectual 
operation, a phenomenon of attention. With true 
conflict the struggle is not between the stimuli but 
between instincts or instinct groups which seek dif- 
ferent stimuli, and the solution is reached by the 
subjugation of one of the instincts. When one 
stimulus, however, becomes stronger than another 
and dominates the field of consciousness previous 
reactions are not subjected or weakened, they simply 
are in abeyance. Examples may make this clearer. 
I may be working and begin to feel hunger. When 
the latter stimulus becomes strong enough I cease 
work and eat, then I return to my work. My per- 
manent interest in work has not suffered, nor, when 
I work, do I weaken my potential appetite for food. 



348 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

On the other hand, if I am hungry and have no 
money to pay for food an instinctive conflict arises. 
I want to eat but I also want to be honest, that is I 
instinctively tend to adopt a herd standard of con- 
duct. This conflict can only be solved by the re- 
pression of one desire to the other. The repression 
results in the exclusion from consciousness of aver- 
sion to stealing or desire to eat. If the conflict were 
prolonged and repeated sufficiently I would become 
a criminal or insensitive to hunger stimuli, either 
being an abnormal mental state for civilized man. 
The primitive solitary animal, however, can experi- 
ence no such conflict. His duty, so to speak, is to 
himself alone; his struggles cannot be internal but 
only between himself and the environment. This 
is, I believe, a most important differentiation and 
our literature is full of logical errors resulting from 
a failure to discriminate between alternation of at- 
tention and true instinctive conflict. 

As we have seen the simple instinct reactions are 
confined to emergency situations more or less, while 
programs of activity are the product of instinct- 
motivations, largely unconscious. The latter are 
not simply constructed but have the life history of 
the individual back of them. Consequently more 
than one instinct group is apt to be concerned in 
their growth. If every motivation represented only 
one instinct group, all our behavior would probably 
be of the alternation of attention type because in 
any given situation the motivation aroused would 
elicit the force directed by only one instinct group 
and there would be no chance for instinctive conflict. 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 349 

The earliest conflict is probably related to sex be- 
cause reproduction involves great sacrifice for a 
prolonged period to the parent of one sex or the 
other, or to both. Perhaps to offset this sacrifice 
nature has placed a high premium of pleasure on 
the sex act. This pleasure aspect of sex activity 
which satisfies the ego, relates sex as definitely to 
ego appetites, on the one hand, as to reproduction 
and service of the species on the other. (It would 
be an interesting problem in animal psychology to 
determine whether the strength of the sex impulse 
which, presumably, measures the degree of pleasure 
in copulation is correlated generally with the degree 
of responsibility assumed by one or both parents 
"for the welfare of the offspring.) In so far as ego 
and sex instincts are concerned there does not seem 
to be much permanent conflict for there is an alter- 
nation of attention to one type of stimulation or an- 
other, at least in so far as the pleasure aspects of 
the sex instincts may conflict with other pleasures 
of the ego. It must be admitted that parental in- 
stincts might lead to more protracted and real con- 
flict with ego tendencies, and in this connection one 
should note that the more selfish a man or woman 
is the more do the pleasure aspects of sex life pre- 
dominate. 

In general, however, alternation of attention is 
apt to be the form assumed by ego-sex conflict, since 
breeding is a seasonal function in most animals, and 
even care of the young endures for a relatively short 
period of time. Indifference to offspring appears 
so soon as the progeny develops a certain degree of 



350 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

maturity. When danger or hunger interferes with 
mating the latter is temporarily discontinued but is 
renewed when danger is past or hunger appeased. 
There is no repression (which would lead to sexual 
incapacity) but merely alternation of attention. 
The probability is that important pathogenic con- 
flicts would not result from the interaction of sex 
and ego instincts alone. 

But development of herd life introduces another 
type of conflict. Self perpetuation and group safety 
are concurrent needs and when one is threatened the 
other is apt to be. Individual comfort is then best 
secured by suppression (and annihilation) of purely. 
ego tendencies, a phenomenon well demonstrated by 
bees. The group is much more permanent, powerful 
and effective than the individual. If the individual 
flings ambition away, he can enjoy the triumph of 
his group untroubled by considerations of his own 
welfare. His comfort is thus assured. Man has 
never developed or has lost this type of evolution 
(in perfect form.) Under certain circumstances, 
however, a tendency in this direction appears. For 
instance, in war perfect morale involves individual 
unconsciousness of danger and indifference to per- 
sonal deprivation. 

Though a well developed reaction of this order is 
episodic, civilization entails a constant restriction 
of ego impulses. This inhibition acts through laws 
and conventions, which as Trotter has shown, derive 
their power not from an intellectual recognition of 
their wisdom but because the voice of the herd 
speaks through them. The herd instincts, therefore, 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 351 

force the individual to obey conventions. When 
these conventions cramp individual ambition, the 
ego accepts the restriction because it gets a quid 
pro quo. This compensation takes the form of pro- 
tection from danger, a share in material prosperity 
not achievable by the individual alone and, above 
all, a feeling of comfort derived from unity with the 
group that is a direct emotional expression of the 
herd instinct. 

If these compensations are not procurable con- 
flict arrives. But it is largely a conscious affair be- 
cause the struggle is between conscious desire and 
"conscience." The latter seems to be largely a 
growth of experience of what the herd wants, that 
is, a motivation derived from herd standards. In so 
far as unconscious factors may enter into the con- 
struction of conscience, the conflict has unconscious 
elements but these seem to be slight. For instance, 
in the situation in which war neuroses develop there 
is a conflict between a desire to be loyal and a desire 
~to save one 's own skin. The loyalty is mainly a 
conscious matter and that the conflict takes place 
at a level near toi consciousness is, presumably, 
proved by the facility of treatment of uncomplicated 
cases of war neuroses. Another important factor 
to bear in mind is that civilization does not deprive 
man of all right to self-defense or self-aggrandise- 
ment. Society does not censure a man for jumping 
out of the way of an automobile ; he can actually win 
social approval by building up a fortune. Normally, 
therefore, some outlet to ego tendencies is always 
allowed by the herd and the pressure of such ego 



352 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

impulses, as may be repressed, is continually being 
reduced, which prevents the accumulation and dam- 
ming up of unconscious ego energy. 

In consequence of this adjustment of ego and herd 
instincts pathological ego expressions should not 
be expected to occur except under two possible con- 
ditions. One is where there is a constitutional 
predominance of ego tendencies such as seems to 
exist in epilepsy; the other is under exceptional 
circumstances when the ego is denied normal expres- 
sion as with imprisonment or ostracism. These 
circumstances would be episodic and therefore pro- 
duce episodic abnormalities enduring only for the 
period of the emergency. A repetition of such 
influence could, of course, lead to a new standard 
of behavior, the rather artificial production of a 
dominant ego analogous to that of epilepsy. These 
special situations lead to an unnatural severance 
between the individual and the group. When re- 
peated the individual may assume a conscious 
attitude of hostility to the group and permanently 
regress to that phylogenetic level where the indi- 
vidual exists in a purely hostile environment. The 
clinical facts confirm this view. Psychopathic reac- 
tions of ego origin appear in epilepsy rather 
chronically, episodically in crime and in the situa- 
tion neuroses and psychoses; or, a conscious 
adoption of exclusively ego ambitions may lead to 
crime as a vocation. 

The conflict between sex instincts and herd in- 
stincts is more complicated. Society allows only one 
form of entirely free sex outlet, namely in legalized 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 353 

marriage. This possibility is open to adults only 
and even when legal maturity has been reached 
marriage is subject to many vicissitudes. One in- 
evitable result is that sex impulses are liable to 
conflict in all people for years and in some perma- 
nently. It is now important to bear in mind that 
sex has two aspects : a fundamental biological urge 
for propagation, with which is probably to be re- 
lated the parental instincts; and a secondary 
development of great importance, the pleasure-giv- 
ing capacity. The first of these may be correlated 
in action with the herd instincts. It is, however, 
more fundamental than the latter since sex sub- 
serves the maintenance of the whole species, while 
herd instincts cement and maintain only a group 
within the species. Another contrast has to do with 
the factor of intelligence. An animal has sensational 
contact with the group, whereas, the "species" is 
an abstraction which can be intellectually grasped 
by educated man alone. Sex instinct therefore op- 
erates more directly in purely instinctive reactions 
whereas herd reactions may be immediately deter- 
mined by intellectual factors behind which lie the 
instinctive forces. The contrast is discernible in 
conscious attitude: when actuated by herd instinct 
a man is apt to be aware of the social implications 
of his conduct, but when his behavior is sexual his 
only conscious motive is likely to be the attainment 
of sensual pleasure. 

Between propagation impulses and herd stand- 
ards of conduct the conflict is mainly conscious and 
does not approach in severity the struggle between 



354 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

society and the secondarily developed pleasure com- 
ponents of sex. The latter are viewed as purely 
ego tendencies and treated as inimical to the welfare 
of the group. The degrees of sympathy or disgust 
felt for the sex delinquent vary largely with the 
extent to which the practice definitely assails mar- 
riage, renders it impossible, is a substitute for it, 
is of its nature sterile or would involve in-breeding. 
Adultery is aimed against marriage, hence legal 
action is severe but some sympathy may be shown 
the culprits ; prostitution does not prevent marriage 
hence it is condoned pretty widely ; the relationship 
of man to mistress, which is without the legal guar- 
antee of permanence that marriage enjoys but is 
otherwise largely identical, is in many countries an 
open and approved practice. On the other hand in- 
version and perversion are fairly universally held 
in disgust, while incest is abhorred. As we have 
seen in the last chapter, there is good biological rea- 
son for believing that there are instinctive forces 
directed against incest and since these operate in 
connection with social institutions, they are, pre- 
sumably, related to the herd instincts. The gist of 
our conclusions would then be that neither ego nor 
sex tendencies in pure form are necessarily subject 
to repression but that it is the combination of the 
two which is tabu. 

Although discrimination between propagation 
and pleasure aspects of sex may be made in theory 
it is impossible in the light of our present knowledge 
to draw a sharp line between the two in practice. 
Hence the value of discussing instinct groups rather 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 355 

than separate instincts. The question as to whether 
so-called " infantile sexuality" is truly sexual or 
not is thus avoided. The pleasure aspects of adult 
sex activity have much in common with the auto- 
erotism of infancy ; the latter has biological signifi- 
cance only as a forerunner of sex in the narrow 
sense, yet sex consciousness is absent in the infant 
sucking his thumb or actually masturbating. One 
can argue indefinitely about the nomenclature to be 
applied to these phenomena and never escape this 
dilemma. But if a group of sex instincts is postu- 
lated, that group will then combine all impulses 
which are historically or potentially related to sex 
practices. The only condition for the presence of 
any impulse exclusively in this group is that some 
connection with sex can be demonstrated and that 
this impulse is not explicable as an exhibition of 
some other instinct. 

Discussion is thus confined to the question of the 
classification of such impulses as may express in- 
stincts of different groups. For instance, the in- 
fantile sucking tendency certainly has to do with 
nutrition and the maintenance of life. It can, there- 
fore, be classed as an ego instinct expression. But 
it may be present in the absence of hunger, or spe- 
cial forms of it may actually interfere with the tak- 
ing of food. In the latter instances the practice is 
indulged for the pleasurable sensation it gives and 
for this alone. We can trace this pleasure sensation 
in its development to a point where it unites with 
practices indisputably sexual. Hence, we are safe 
in saying that sucking, which does not subserve the 



356 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

function of nutrition, is an instinctive practice which 
belongs in the sex group. Exactly the same argu- 
ment may be employed in discriminating between 
different phenomena connected with excretion. In 
fact this duplication of function must exist in the 
absence of a large group of organs specialized for 
the recognition of a sex object alone, and for the 
stimulation of sex desire and for the satisfaction of 
sex-sensation cravings. 

We have noted that the types of sex activity which 
are pathogenic have, all of them, components of 
pleasure which predominate over the propagation 
elements. As just stated society frowns on non- 
productive sex indulgence and it seems that this 
inhibition becomes incorporated in the individual's 
instinctive life, by way of the herd instincts. Psy- 
choanalysts find that repression operates with 
progressive strength as it is directed against im- 
pulses in which the pleasure aspect gains relatively 
greater importance. The stronger the repression 
the deeper in the unconscious does this repressed 
tendency go. Finally a point is reached in uncov- 
ering unconscious sex cravings where they are found 
to be purely selfish and totally unrelated, or actually 
inimical, to propagation. 

An important cause for continuous conflict be- 
tween the sex and herd instincts is that sex is not a 
periodic function in the races of man we know about. 
A study of the psychology of those tribes of Eski- 
mos, which are said to have seasonal sex-impulses, 
would probably be most illuminating. A second and 
all-important point is that the channels for sex 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 357 

stimulation are, many of them, identical with the 
channels of social contact. This is an inevitable 
result of the lack of anatomical specializations of 
organs by which sex stimulation is effected. The 
community of interest, the moral and physical 
propinquity which draw people into groups may 
draw two individuals into a sex relationship. It is 
therefore difficult for one to receive a social stimu- 
lus without at the same time "being subject to a sex 
stimulus. The latter falls almost invariably, under 
social tabu, hence a constant conflict between the 
synchronously stimulated herd and sex instincts is 
inevitable. On the other hand this same situation 
makes sublimation possible and relatively simple. 
Since unconscious tendencies can be expressed in- 
directly and symbolically, social activities of all 
kinds are capable of giving an outlet to unconscious 
sexuality. 1 The importance of this conjunction of 

1 This is, of course, a sublimation, a process which it may be well 
to describe in our present terminology. When an ego or ego-sex 
impulse is so formulated as to be antisocial in tendency it is re- 
pressed. That is, the energy incorporated in this crude motivation 
meets with the stronger opposing force of an antagonistic herd in- 
stinct motivation. So long as this process is going on there is 
more or less of a deadlock and little energy remains for expression 
in manifest activity. The normal solution of this conflict is the 
reformulation of the ' ' complex " ; a new motivation is compounded. 
An idea appears which can represent the ego or ego-sex impulse 
symbolically and at the same time represents a socially useful ac- 
tivity. This new motivation therefore incorporates the energy di- 
rected both by the ego or sex instincts and by the herd instincts. 
Forces previously in opposition now cooperate and the subject ex- 
hibits great energy. This definition is broader than Freud's but fits 
clinical facts better, I believe. For instance, it enables us to under- 
stand the blood lust of war as a sublimation. See MacCurdy, "Psy- 
chology of War," London, Wm. Heinemann, 1917. 



358 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

sex and social outlets will be apparent when we 
come to consider some of the phenomena of devel- 
opment of dementia praecox. 

A third factor in the development of unconscious 
sexuality must be briefly considered. Anatomical 
and physiological restriction of actual sex expres- 
sion has an essential influence on psychosexual 
development. In childhood sex instincts are in- 
capable of any outlet which fulfills their biological 
purpose. In consequence budding sex tendencies are 
restricted to pleasure impulses that are, at first, 
auto-erotic in nature. As soon as they begin to be 
objectivated they tend to be expressed in relation 
to those in the immediate environment. Even at 
this early stage the identity of the channels of stim- 
ulus for sex and social activity begins to complicate 
matters. Were the infant's environment a wide one 
no untoward results would ensue, but, not only are 
his companions in the main relatives, but by all his 
associates he is treated with that affection and that 
personal attention which is sexually exciting in 
adult life. That his larval sex impulses should 
therefore be directed towards relatives is only nat- 
ural. The (Edipus complex is thus initiated. In 
so far as these objectivated sex impulses tend to 
assume an adult form their expression is possible 
only in fantasy. So soon as the herd instincts begin 
to operate, and through them the child senses the 
attitude of society towards sex in general and 
towards anything sexual of which he is capable in 
particular, at this point these fantasies become 
specific objects for repression and form the founda- 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 359 

tion of unconscious sex ambitions. Until puberty is 
reached literal translation of these thoughts into ac- 
tion is a physical impossibility. Consequently, for 
many years there must exist unconscious ideas capa- 
ble of no expression except that of symbolic outlet. 

This is probably the reason for the universality 
of potent unconscious sex tendencies, more potent 
(as unconscious factors) than any ego impulses. 
The fate of the latter is much less harsh. From his 
earliest days the child, although curbed in many 
directions of ego expression is still allowed some 
chance to assert his individuality and to protect his 
personal interests. It is therefore only under un- 
usual circumstances that his ego instincts are so 
thwarted of expression as to lead to the construc- 
tion and maintenance of a large system of repressed, 
unconscious ambitions. The same type of process 
does occur here, however, in the formation of what 
appears clinically as a feeling of inferiority. But 
one finds both from analysis of individuals and from 
theoretic considerations such as are here outlined, 
little reason to believe that this feeling of inferiority 
when uncomplicated by sex factors is a common 
cause of psychopathic reactions. 

As a general rule the inferiority feeling is not so 
simple in its history as might be gathered from the 
outline given in the chapter on ego motivations. 
Unconscious ^nasochism is apt to take this outlet in 
consciousness. With this there are often associated 
castration ideas in the male and homosexual 
tendencies in the female. The woman who uncon- 
sciously likens herself to a man is, naturally, in- 



360 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ferior in actuality by the lack of the genital 
equipment necessary for realization of this fantasy. 
So fancied sexual inferiority overdetermines this 
symptom and, probably, accounts for its persistence. 
In addition to the conflicts of ego with sex, ego 
with herd and sex with herd, one other possible type 
of conflict must be considered. It is conceivable 
that, with the highly complex development of psy- 
chosexuality, one kind of sex ambition might clash 
with another. Freud makes a great deal of this 
possibility in his discussion of narcissism and ego- 
libido. His system becomes so complicated, how- 
ever, that Freud himself has never been able to 
explain it without inconsistencies and the use of 
anthropomorphic argument. On the other hand if 
one assumes that it is the herd instincts which sup- 
ply the repressive energy one can formulate a much 
simpler and apparently adequate psychological sys- 
tem. Narcissism, although an important type of 
psychosexual aberration is probably only an over- 
determining factor in relation to repression. One 
can account for repression proceeding from the in- 
dividual's ideal of himself by assuming that herd 
instincts are an essential factor in the composition 
of that ideal. Freudians frequently attempt to ac- 
count for the obviously dynamic character of social 
influence by claiming that the individual transfers 
to society the awe originally felt for the father in 
early childhood, so that fear of the law is fear of 
the father unconsciously. There can be little doubt 
that this often occurs. The actors of the nursery 
drama are met again in the persons of the policeman 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 361 

or judge. On the other hand Rivers * has recently 
shown that the ambivalent reaction towards the 
father (alternate respect or love and hate or fear) 
such as we know them in our civilization are found 
among savages towards groups of people — this with 
savages who have not our family institutions and 
who may come into little or no contact with their 
fathers. From this we would be justified in con- 
cluding that awe of the father is merely an over- 
determining factor in repression. Moreover a 
posthumous child may develop a "father-complex." 
I have analyzed one such: in this case the patient 
had been brought up entirely by women and conjured 
up a father-image in order to personify, apparently, 
the repressive motivations which he spontaneously 
developed. 

In concluding these remarks about conflicts in gen- 
eral one point must be added. Serious conflicts are 
apt to occur only when the opposing forces are ap- 
proximately evenly matched. Rivers reports an 
extraordinary harmony and smoothness in the life 
of Melanesians among whom herd reactions pre- 
dominate and the phenomena of group consciousness 
are striking. It is, therefore, not surprising that he 
found only one type of psychopathic reaction among 
these savages (excluding feeble-mindedness, of 
course). This is a very simple kind of insanity in 
which the victims seem simply to run off and exclude 
themselves from the group. 2 

1 Elvers, Presidential Address, "Conservatism and Plasticity," 
Folk-lore, Vol. XXXII, No. 1. 
a Personal communication. 



362 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

The matching of strength of two instinct groups 
is shown in the development of dementia praecox. 
The two main types of personality antedating this 
psychosis are the seclusive and antisocial. These 
betray weak herd instincts in positive and negative 
expression. When the psychosis emerges, delusions 
and hallucinations appear which represent an ac- 
ceptance of the unconscious type of sex fantasies. 
As the disorder proceeds in intensity, these fan- 
tasies assume, roughly, the form of unconscious 
thoughts proceeding from lower and lower levels. 
The situation may therefore be looked on as one 
where sex is not essentially overdeveloped, for it 
does not take the form of procreative or creative 
tendencies, but rather, where the herd instincts are 
weak. When the latter are disproportionately 
powerful no psychosis appears but, rather, too great 
an absorption of current ideas. Independence of 
thought is lost and intellectual stultification takes 
place. The individual is, so to speak, too normal. 

These generalizations about instinct conflicts may 
be summed up in a few words. The most important 
conflict is between the sex and herd groups of in- 
stincts and this results in the formation of uncon- 
scious cravings for the pleasure-giving aspects of 
sex. This "unconscious" is present in all people, 
potentially capable of producing psychopathological 
reactions. The next most important conflict is be- 
tween the ego and herd groups. The former usually 
does not suffer complete repression and hence does 
not tend to build up any elaborate unconscious sys- 
tem. Abnormal mental reactions are produced by 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 363 

this conflict only when the ego is constitutionally 
preponderant or when special circumstances call 
forth an ego response. The manifestations of these 
disorders are in behavior or in temporary neuroses 
and psychoses. 

Our next problem is to determine what forces 
operate in the precipitation of morbid psychological 
conditions. Normality is achieved and maintained 
by the balance of an intricate system of instincts. 
In the terminology of psychoanalysis this balance 
is the product of sublimations, forms of activity 
which allow outlet to the various instinct groups at 
once. These outlets are indirect since direct ex- 
pression produces instant conflict. The maintenance 
of indirect outlets demands a greater expenditure 
of energy than does direct expression of instinct. 
Any factor such as physical illness, therefore, which 
reduces the individual's supply of energy endangers 
the stability of the normal system. It is more or 
less of a truism of general pathology that disease 
breaks down the most recent evolutionary structures 
of functions, while more primitive ones survive. 
In psychopathology we see something similar. When 
the energy supply is low sublimations are weakened 
and instincts of the sex or ego group express them- 
selves more directly. This is the principle of 
regression. 

We have already considered the different types 
of environmental accident that may lead to the 
abandonment of sublimations. Attention should be 
drawn however to one feature of these reactions. 



364 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

When conscious activities fail to give satisfaction 
or cannot be maintained, the process of regression 
leads to an attempt at unconscious satisfaction. 
Since the unconscious is constituted largely of ego- 
istic sex cravings the immediate determinants of 
the ensuing symptoms may be sexual, without the 
general cause of the disease having much to do with 
sex. 

The last portion of our problem is the most diffi- 
cult, being the operation of these instinct groups in 
the production of different symptoms, which is an 
intricate matter. Few symptoms seem to have a 
simple relationship to one group of instincts alone. 

This may be shown by considering first a funda- 
mental psychopathic symptom — unreal thinking. 
Sanger Brown's claim as to the herd type of think- 
ing being present in the child and repeated in the 
psychosis seems worthy of adoption. If further 
evidence were required one could point to the fact 
that the clearest thinkers are, as a rule, egoists. 
We may assume, therefore, that delusional thought 
processes represent an atavism to the evolutionary 
period when individual consciousness was not suf- 
ficiently developed for accuracy of observation and 
recall to exist except in larval form. So much for 
this type of thinking process. But when we turn to 
the content of delusions the reverse seems to be true. 
What we call fantastic thoughts are beliefs main- 
tained in spite of the opinion of the immediate herd. 
The urge to unreal thinking does not come then from 
those herd instincts which lead us to unify ourselves 
with our actual fellows but rather from the attrac- 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 365 

tiveness of the imagination itself. We must prob- 
ably look to the sex instincts for the immediate 
production of most autistic thought for the reason 
that imagery is for years the main outlet for sex 
impulses, which establishes fantasy as an expression 
for these motivations. If regression leads to an 
awakening of unconscious sex impulses, these tend 
naturally to expression in fantasy. If the lure of 
these images is stronger than one's desire to accept 
the herd standards of reality a delusion results. 
Only in most complete regression does the thought 
represent a crude unconscious desire. The herd 
instinct is not abolished but forces, as a rule, some 
modification or transformation of the idea that is 
less repellent to the socialized personality. 1 

Ego ambitions may also lead to imaginations but 
these are more readily translatable into terms of 

1 The psychological mechanisms of paranoia and paranoid states 
probably illustrate this point. It is not difficult to demonstrate ego- 
sex motivafidns as the dynamic factors underlying the abnormal 
state. But the form false ideas take seems to be associated with a 
peculiar perversion of the herd instinct. The patients feel influences 
from without, like the savage with group consciousness and, at the 
same time, are extraordinarily sensitive to the unconscious attitudes 
of their intimates. They interpret little evidences of unconscious 
infidelity in their partners, for instance, and exaggerate these into 
delusions of infidelity. That is, they allege something to be con- 
scious which is really unconscious. (This is one of the difficulties of 
treating such patients psychoanalytically. They say, "You tell me 
this shows infidelity in me; but that is just the way my wife behaves, 
of course she is unfaithful.") It would seem that these phenomena 
are explicable by assuming that the paranoic builds up an imag- 
inary group which he alleges to hold views similar to his. When 
real people are in this group it is their unconscious minds with which 
the patient is in contact. But this is a problem the solution of 
which demands much further observation and elaboration. 



366 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

action and hence do not involve the same degree of 
divorce from reality. (This holds true no matter 
whether "reality" is taken in an absolute sense or 
as the herd formulation as to what is real.) An- 
other stimulus to fantasy is, probably, the curiosity 
impulse. Whether this is a purely instinctive thing 
or not, it seems to be related both to the ego and sex 
instincts. But the fates of curiosity as to sex and 
other matters are different. The former falls under 
a social tabu and cannot be satisfied except through 
imaginations. The ego-determined curiosity — a 
hypothetical interest in objective facts for the sake 
of knowledge itself, so called "intellectual curios- 
ity" — can proceed from fancy to actual experience. 
So an examination of curiosity leads us to the same 
conclusions : the urge to think vividly of something 
alluring and unreal is probably, a product of the sex 
instincts in the main, although a less potent tendency 
in the same direction may come from the ego group. 

If unreal thinking is an atavism to the period 
when herd thinking was dominant but the regression 
is determined by a sex urge, we have here an exam- 
ple of the principle first enunciated by Rivers, I 
believe, which may prove to be of great value in 
dynamic psychology. He points out that civilian 
hysteria based on sex conflicts exhibits the same 
symptoms as war hysteria based on danger reac- 
tions, the latter symptoms representing primitive 
reactions to danger. He suggests that reactions first 
elaborated in the service of what he calls the danger 
instincts may be utilized by the sex instincts. If this 
principle holds, we could invoke it to account for 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 367 

delusions repeating a type of thought developed as 
a phenomenon of group consciousness, but now 
directed dynamically by sex instincts. 

The evidence in favor of there being a ' ' collective 
consciousness" among many primitive peoples is 
strong enough to make us presume that this may be 
a fundamental kind of human mental process, which 
civilized man has outgrown but still maintains in 
vestigial form. At the same time the ' ' primary sub- 
jective state" which Burrow has described carries 
with it a good deal of the same sort of dependent, 
rather than independent thinking. The infant, who 
identifies his own with his mother's body and fails 
to discriminate between this flesh and the surround- 
ing material objects, is repeating more fully perhaps 
in this period than at any other in his life this psy- 
chological feature of herd specialization. Of course 
it is not impossible that the primary subjective state 
is much more fundamental matter than herd devel- 
opment ; if this were so communal society would be a 
specialization of a type of emotional relationship 
first appearing with maternal care. The two factors 
seem frequently to cooperate in the production of 
symptoms or characteristics. People who are un- 
usually sensitive to difference of opinion in those 
they love, who exaggerate the importance of 
1 'unity" are apt to be morbidly uncomfortable (even 
fearful) when they feel urged to conduct different 
from that of their business, social or political asso- 
ciates. In the first situation the mother identifica- 
tion (in this sense largely an ego instinct phenome- 
non) preponderates. In the second instance the 



368 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

reaction is mainly a herd instinct exhibition. Yet 
both factors probably operate together. 

On the other hand there are differences of ten- 
dency in these two principles. The unity motiva- 
tion is apt to lead to a demand for others to agree 
with the subject — a natural result of the ego impulse 
on which it is historically founded — while the col- 
lective consciousness principle is likely to produce 
more of a passive attitude, an adoption of the opin- 
ions and attitudes of others. 

The principle of one instinct borrowing the reac- 
tion elaborated with another may explain the rela- 
tion of many pathological emotions to the various 
instinct groups. As we have seen, the ego emotions 
seemed to be confined to fear, anger and apathy and 
we certainly see them in purest form in the war 
neuroses and in epilepsy. It may be remarked 
parenthetically that apathy is a good example of 
the all-or-none type of reaction which Eivers claims 
to be characteristic of simple, primitive emotions. 
An epileptic, for instance, shows much energy in 
following successful enterprises, but when assailed 
with misfortune is apt to lose interest altogether. 
Perhaps elation, as the emotion occurring with free 
expression of personal power or prowess should 
also be included with the ego emotions. Now we 
also see fear, anger and apathy and elation in sit- 
uations precipitated by sex. For instance, in the 
psychoses we find sex aggression represented by an 
idea of physical attack. That this notion is funda- 
mentally a sex fantasy is shown by the fact that 
physical assault occurs as a variant in the same indi- 



COOPERATION AND .CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 369 

vidual for a delusion of being an object of sex 
interest on the part of the aggressor. In these 
psychoses, when the idea once appears in a form 
implying bodily injury, anxiety appears. That is, 
a sex desire is transformed into a delusion or hal- 
lucination of some threat to the ego and, promptly, 
an ego emotion appears. The emotion, then, is an 
ego instinct reaction but the motive power comes 
from the latent sex impulse. Similar events can be 
shown to produce anger, elation and apathy. 

If we turn from the psychoses to other fields we 
find similar evidence. In dreams the principle is 
usually demonstrated exquisitely. In most anxiety 
dreams for instance, the fear is a direct response to 
the mental image of bodily harm. But when one 
analyzes this manifest content it is found to be the 
product of latent sex impulses. In anxiety neuroses 
there is much evidence (which space prevents our 
repeating) that the fear is a reaction to a co- 
conscious hallucination of attack. The mechanism 
is the same as that seen in psychoses with the ex- 
ception of the fantasy not having penetrated into 
full consciousness. 

The broader aspects of the anxiety neurosis prob- 
lems become more complicated. Freud claims that 
anxiety represents a transformation of libido into 
fear and points to the fact of common clinical ex- 
perience that this neurosis develops in situations 
where sex outlet is denied or greatly hampered. The 
direct transformation of an unformulated instinctive 
urge into an emotion is as foreign to our notions 
of psychology as is alchemy to modern chemistry. 



370 PBOBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

We should therefore be chary of accepting such a 
hypothesis and another view is conceivable. The 
heightened libido is probably always pathological. 
Freud furnishes much presumptive evidence of this 
when he tries to prove that the incapacity for sex 
expression is abnormal. The exaggerated libido 
may easily represent an instinctive attempt at cure. 
Stekel says all fears have in them an element of 
dread of death or of the unknown. We certainly 
see the most dramatic exhibitions of psychotic fear 
in involution melancholia when the delusion of im- 
manent death is obsessive. This may be regarded 
as the situation of the herd animal separated from 
the group. 1 In every psychopathic situation there 
is evidence presented of weakened herd instincts. 
We might therefore assume that the excessive libido 
represents an attempt to force a reestablishment 
of emotional contact with one's fellows. Such an 
attempt may be a natural corollary of the identity 
of sex and social contacts. A feeling of social iso- 
lation would lead to a desire for close contact with 
others and the emotional value of this contact can 
be immensely heightened by its sexualization. In 
my experience the pathological libido of these cases 
disappears on analysis and the patients have little 
difficulty in leading continent lives thereafter. One 
advantage of this hypothesis is that it covers the 

1 There are two types of fear seen in anxiety states. The first is 
a vague, unformulated dread that something is going to happen. 
The second is acute panic. The former may, perhaps, represent 
the affect of the herd animal separated from his group, while the 
latter is the appreciation of the danger depicted in the co-conscioue 
fantasy. 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 371 

phenomena of anxiety in children much more ade- 
quately than do the theories of Freud. 

Anger in the psychoses can easily be shown to 
be a meeting of aggression with aggression, the in- 
stincts involved being exactly the same as those in 
anxiety states. 

Elation in manic-depressive insanity is found to 
be associated with ideas of exercise of great power 
in business, discovery, religion or love. The general 
construction of these ideas is that of sublimations. 
Their energy seems to come from unconscious sex 
sources, as with anxiety, but the emotions are of ego 
expression, a feeling of free expression of power. 

Ecstasy is similarly found with religious ideas 
that are a vehicle of sex impulses of the unconscious 
type but the feeling seems to be that of union of 
the individual consciousness with a larger conscious- 
ness. This is presumably a direct utilization of the 
old group consciousness capacity. If this view be 
justified it may explain the coincidence of erotic 
and religious phenomena, which one meets con- 
stantly in the biographies of mystics. The re- 
ligious idea becomes a vehicle for liberation of un- 
conscious sex energy and the expression of a herd 
emotion. 

The feeling of tenderness associated with the 
parental aspects of sex occurs in manic states but 
is rarely a prominent emotion. It is probably rare 
for the reason that pathogenic sexuality is of the 
pleasure giving rather than of the altruistic order. 
Another directly sexual emotion, a lustful excite- 
ment, occurs most infrequently, if at all, in the 



372 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

ordinary psychoses. It does appear, however, in 
epilepsy. Since it is directly related with the pleas- 
ure aspects of sex, this emotion too is probably to 
be placed in the ego group. Its occurrence in ep- 
ilepsy justifies such a view, for the sex life of the 
typical epileptic is almost devoid of anything sug- 
gesting altruism and is intensely selfish. So much 
is this the case that normal copulation seems to 
appeal to him no more than auto-erotic practices or 
perversions. 

The situation with depression is complicated by 
the fact that this is not a simple emotional state but 
a clinical condition. In this mood there are elements 
of sadness which on analysis seems to be a sub- 
jective recognition of blocked energy. There is no 
reason to exclude any one of the instinct groups as 
the source of this energy. The sadness also has an- 
other component, a feeling of wickedness. The 
emotion is different from guilt in which an idea of 
social censure is prominent. The depressive feel- 
ing of wickedness is an intensely subjective and self- 
contained reaction, which bears no relation to other 
people. It probably represents somehow the con- 
flict between sex and herd instincts since these are 
the ones we find struggling against one another in 
manic-depressive insanity. There is a good deal of 
evidence which points to the occurrence in depres- 
sion of highly antisocial ideas, sexually determined, 
which neither reach consciousness nor are success- 
fully repressed to the deep unconscious. They re- 
main co-conscious and give the patient a poignant 
although unfocused feeling of unworthiness. Ref- 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 373 

erence will shortly be made to other indefinable 
affective components of depression. 1 

We must next turn to other symptoms. Freud 
comments on the fact that most heterogenous un- 
conscious ideas find expression in a small number 
of stereotyped hysterical symptoms such as 
anorexia, paralysis, anesthesia, aphonia, etc. He 
admits that his theories do not account for stereo- 
typed symptoms. Rivers ' hypothesis may, however. 
As has been stated the latter suggests that most 
hysterical symptoms are danger reactions. We 
might elaborate his view by assuming that only such 
unconscious sex ideas reach expression in symptoms 
as are capable of exciting an ego reaction. An ex- 
ample may make this clearer. Anorexia may be the 
only physical expression for complicated uncon- 
scious sex ideas in a woman. One of these may be 
unconsciously formulated after the infantile habit, 
as pregnancy in the stomach. This again is trans- 
formed into a notion of something noxious there. 
At this point the ego reactions of disgust may give 
symptomatic expression of this last formulation. 
Some conscious outlet having been achieved the 
energy of all other unconscious ideas is drained off 
by this route. This hypothesis would also explain 
the necessity for prolonged and elaborate analysis 
before such a symptom disappears; the symptom, 
originally simple in origin, has become multiply 
overdetermined. 

According to this assumption we are consciously 

1 For full discussion of these problems see a forthcoming book by 
the author on "Morbid and Normal Emotions." 



374 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

capable of experiencing only a relatively small num- 
ber of instinctive reactions, only those with such a 
long biological history as that of the ego group. 
Evolution then has not proceeded far enough to give 
us the power of expressing externally the more finely 
differentiated feelings /which have developed with 
sex and herd life, and which therefore remain 
simply l 'feelings." On the other hand it may not 
be a failure of evolution. The gift of speech may be 
a substitute for instinctive expression. The greatest 
literary artist is certainly he who can stir in us the 
most subtle instinctive response, a reaction which 
we feel within but cannot describe or exhibit to our 
companions in any way. This may have a bearing 
on the indefinable emotional components that appear 
in such conditions as depression and in some mys- 
tical experiences, for example. They may be larval 
emotional responses to instinctive impulses which 
have not found expression in the easily definable 
and recognizable ego emotional reactions. 

Suggestibility is perhaps determined compositely 
as well. For our present purposes we might define 
suggestion very broadly as a process by which one 
individual influences another's conduct or transmits 
ideas to another (taking "idea" in a broad sense) 
without utilization of the ordinary, civilized intel- 
lectual channels of communication. This phenome- 
non is probably met with first in connection with 
reproduction, both in respect to the mating behavior 
and in the relations of parent to offspring. Dispas- 
sionately viewed the act of copulation between the 
male and female of many familiar species of mam- 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 375 

mals represents a coordination of effort, that is 
strikingly disproportionate to their ability for co- 
operation in other enterprises. Fundamentally, 
therefore, suggestion is probably sexual in origin. 
We are probably right in thinking that the most ef- 
fective suggestion seen in normal lives occurs in 
connection with love. One has only to recall how 
sensitive lovers are to each other's moods to realize 
the truth of this statement. On the other hand, 
suggestion bulks largely among herd phenomena. 
Perhaps the only safe view to take of the matter is 
to assume that group suggestion is a utilization and 
overdetermining of an earlier sex mechanism. In 
psychopathological experience suggestion, when in- 
dividual, seems to be largely an exhibition of an 
unconscious sex relationship. The question of herd 
suggestion playing a role in the war neuroses has 
been mooted by Rivers. He claims that military 
training inflates suggestibility and that, since 
mimesis is one of the phenomena of suggestion, it 
is an important factor in the production of hyster- 
ical symptoms. The argument is specious, but the 
evidence is insufficient, either for its proof or dis- 
proof. If true, symptoms of one type or another 
would have shown an epidemiological occurrence. If 
there were such epidemics of specific symptoms, I 
have not seen reports of them. On the other hand 
group suggestion certainly played an important 
part in the spread of neurotic reactions in general, 
although it could be argued that one had to do here 
with conscious knowledge rather than with unwitting 
imitation. 



376 PROBLEMS OF DYNAMIC PSYCHOLOGY 

A word should be spoken about the symptoms of 
compulsion neuroses. There are different types 
but one may be taken as a paradigm, namely, the 
case we all know where there are ideas of injury to 
others offset by an elaborate ritual for undoing the 
effect of the primary imagined evil. Here all three 
groups of instincts cooperate. First there is the im- 
pulse to harm a loved one which is usually called 
sadistic. Freud, quite wisely, now regards sadism 
as an accentuation of the masculine tendency to 
dominate. With our present notion of combined 
instincts we would certainly view this as a sexual- 
ization of an ego impulse. Such a view receives 
support from the observation of children, savages 
and epileptics. The belief in the power of thought 
to produce harm is, surely, a survival of the magic 
which is an exquisite example of herd thinking. The 
desire to make good the damage is a direct expres- 
sion of the social aspect of the patient's character; 
back of it lies the whole history of "conscience" 
which as has been stated above is largely con- 
structed by the herd instincts. The ritual again 
harks back to the psychological level of group think- 
ing and group practice. There is probably no 
clinical condition in which these three instinct 
groups participate so equally or where their iden- 
tification is so easy. 

The brief analyses of symptoms thus attempted 
are not supposed to be either exhaustive or pro- 
found. A proper analysis of each symptom would 
call for a monograph by itself. The attempt has 
been merely to indicate superficially how the 



COOPERATION AND CONFLICTS OF INSTINCTS 377 

principle of cooperating instincts may be applied to 
clinical problems. 

In conclusion an answer must be given to the 
question "what of predominant herd instincts?" 
This does occur, but, sad to say, the product is not 
considered pathological. Herd conduct is the 
standard of normality. Hence one who conforms 
more than his neighbors is held to be the worthiest 
and most normal of citizens. Yet rampant herd in- 
stinct is the greatest enemy to human evolution. 
Ego and sex instincts, when in the ascendant, lead 
to the destruction or ineffectiveness of the individ- 
ual. Herd solidarity, however, which should merely 
act as a balance-wheel, in practice is a locked brake. 
The genius who is ahead of his time is subject to the 
same distrust or persecution as is the lunatic or 
criminal who lags in evolution. It is herd instinct 
which stones the prophets, persecutes Galileo, puts 
convention above abstract justice, cements the un- 
critical electorate, rushes wildly into war. The 
world of men suffers and has suffered more from 
such insensate devotion to the herd than from all 
crime, insanity or nervousness. 



THE END 



INDEX 



Abraham 42 

activization 99 

adaptation 306 

Adler 82 

adolescence 310 seq 

affect, dissociation of 52 

aggression 222 

all-or-none law 221, 227 

altruism 24 

amentia 99 

amnesia 237 

amphioxus 124 

anaesthesia 234 

anal erotism 182 

anger 223, 227, 371 

animism 156, 172, 340, 342 

animistic phase 172 

Anlage 243 

anthropomorphism 13, 16, 28, 

86 
anxiety neurosis 66, 241 
anxiety hysteria 80 
apathy 225 
army psychoses 280 
attention 223 
alternation of 218 
and fear 243 
autistic thinking IX 
auto-erotic symbols 180 
auto-erotism and coordination 
and character 182 seq 

hygiene 178 

narcissism 37 

sexuality 179 

sleep 174 
repression of 290, 302 
unconscious 177 
awareness 8 

behaviorism 210 
"Besetzung" 90, 99 



37, 



171 



379 



biological reactions 213 
birth dream 168 
experience 76 
blocking 144 
blood lust 357 
bodily sensations 113 
body language 172 
Brown, Sanger 338 
Burrow, Trigant 39, 188, 367 

cannibalism 60 
Cannon 210 
castration 359 
categories 210 
censorship 94, 96, 110 

and repression 8, 27 
Clark, Pierce 153, 278 
claustrophobia 245 
co-conscious 10, 11, 123, 135, 229, 

231, 238 
coitus reflex 217 
collapse 222 

collective unconscious 339 
compensation 286 
complex 233 
compulsion neurosis 376 
compulsive ideas 136 
condensation 98, 110 
conformity 324 
conscience 34, 283, 332, 351 
consciousness, collective 339, 367 

communal 324, 326 seq 

definition of 232 

function of 123 
constructive delusions 51 
conversion hysteria 247 
coordination and auto-erotism 171 
criminal, habitual 282 
curiosity 282 

Darwin 248 

day remnants 95, 110 



380 



INDEX 



death 159 

definitions in psychology 257 

delinquency 283 

delusions 147 

constructive 51 

of grandeur 42 

of poverty 185 
dementia prascox 42, 48, 108, 264, 

280, 362 
depression 73, 372 
De Quineey 168 
devolution 250 
diagnostic dreams 92 
displacement 98, 110 
dissociation 229, 236 

of affect 52 
dogma 325 
dramatization 97 
dream wish 95 

work 97, 103, 110 
dreams diagnostic 113 

memory of 96 
dynamic psychology IX 

ecstasy 371 
ego 156 

conscious or unconscious 36 

critic 60 

definition of 31 seq, 271 

emotions 272 

energy 278 

ideal 34 

interest 41 

libido 31 seq 
and sleep 43 

and personality 34 
egoism 25 
elation 368, 371 
emotions 368 seq 
emotions, visceral language of 177 
energy 263 
epicritic 214, 239 
epilepsy XI, 197, 276 
epileptic deterioration 278 
Eskimos 356 
exogamy 335 
expansive ideas 284 
expedience 260 

fantasy 311, 365 

fear 75 seq, 220, 223, 369 



fear, childish 82 

free-floating 79 

and attention 243 
libido 79 seq 
repression 30 

of poverty 60 
Ferenczi 153 
flight 222 

flight of ideas 146 
folie a deux 200 
food refusal of 62 
fore-conscious 8, 9, 11, 94, 96, 

110, 123 
Forel 136 

free associations 104, 127 
fugue 229 

games, rotation of 329 

" Gegenbesetzung " 30, 94 

Golden Age 166 

grief 58, 73 

group thinking 324, 339 

habit and instinct 261 
hallucinations 147 

hypnogogic 105 
Harrison, Jane 340 
Hartland, E. S. 335 
Head, Henry 269 
herd instinct 234 

voice 326 
Hoch, August X, 184 
Hocking, W. E. 263 
homosexual phase 316 
homosexuality 188 

in Greece 332 
Horton, Lydiard 113 
hygiene and auto-erotism 178 
hypnogogic hallucinations 105 
hypnotism 237 
hypochondria 67 

and narcissism 52 
hysteria 246 
hysterical symptoms 373 

ideas and instincts 19, 259 
identification 192 

in marriage 201 
imago 39, 294 seq, 337 
imitation 234 
immobility 222 

and suppression 225 



INDEX 



381 



immobilization 246 
impulse and libido 62 
inactivity 225 
inbreeding 334 
incest, horror of 191, 196 

repression of 333 seq 
infantile sexuality 21, 169 

sex theories 305 
inferiority, feeling of 82, 283, 

359 
inheritance of sex ideas 26 
instinct 154, 219 seq 
instincts, borrowed reactions of 
248, 250, 366 

characteristics of 257 

conative expressions of 16 

cooperation of 265 

modifications of 17 

motivizations 258 seq 

phylogenetic 256, 346 

sublimation of 19 

and ideas 19, 259 

and reflex 15 
integration 231 
intelligence 17 
introjection 154, 156 
intuition 235 

involuntary nervous system 209 
involution melancholia 179, 183, 
184 

Jackson, Hughlings 250 
James-Lange hypothesis 71, 75, 

210 
Janet, Pierre 136 
Jones, Ernest 120, 323 
Jung, C. G. XIII, 98, 104, 339 

Kennedy, Foster 246 
Kempf 210 

law 331 
Levy-Bruhl 340 
libido 21 

dependent 24 

narcissistic 24 

pathological 80 

of Jung 46 

and fear 79 seq 
impulse 62 
love 72, 191 



MacCurdy, John T. 51, 184, 211, 

278 357 
McDougall, William 48, 72, 219, 

234, 267 
magical thought 154 
mania 61 

manipulative activity 222, 225 
Martin, Everett Dean 330 
masochism 25 

and anal erotism 25 
masturbation 310, 312 
materialism 209 
Melanesians 235, 328 
menopause 79 
metamorphoses 228 
metapsychology 90 
Meyer, Adolf 210, 257 
Meynert 's amentia 99 
mimesis 235 
mother body ideas 160 

body symbols 162 
mourning 58 
multiple personality 230 
mutism 247 
mysticism XIII, 195 

narcissism 37, 189, 315 
and auto -erotism 37 
hypochondria 52 
negative wishes 12 
nest ideas 165 
neurasthenia 66 
neuroses, classification of 65 
Nicoll, Maurice 113 

objectivation 192 
obsession 243 
(Edipus complex 23, 147 
omnipotence of thought 154 
organic pleasure 22 
"organ speech" 53 

pain 215 
paranoia 365 
participation, law of 340 
paternity, ignorance of 335 
personality, multiple 230 
phobias 80 

of childhood 244 
phylogenetic dissociation 231 

suppression 228 



382 



INDEX 



Platonic love 196 
"playing possum" 246 
pleasure pain principle 10, 16, 

17 
polarities 17 
posthumous child 361 
poverty, delusions of 185 

fear of 60 
precocious puberty 308 
primary identification 190 

processes 98 

subjective state 367 
Prince Morton 88, 123, 135, 230, 

267 
prison psychoses 280 
projections 156 
protopathic 214 
puberty 79, 304 seq 

rapport 120 
rationalization 323 
reality 153, 343 
reflex and instinct 15 
regression 97, 99 

types of 318 
religion 325 

repression 48, 110, 213, 293, 302, 
333 
neurosis 240 
origin of 31, 191 
and censorship 27 
fear 30 
resistance 28, 36 
retrospective falsification 24, 166, 

173 
Eiddoch, George 114, 217 
Eivers, W. H. E. XV, 70, 212, 
327, 341, 361 

sadism 25 

scattered speech 108, 146 

self -consciousness 273 
preservation 271 
reproach 59 

sentiments 48, 234 

settings 136 

sex, consciousness 291 
ego element in 276 
impulses, education of 26 
traumata, imaginary 22 



sexual anaesthesia 314 

curiosity 170 

instinct 17, 18 

sophistication 293 
sex and unconscious 9 
sexuality and auto-erotism 179 
Shand, A. F. 48, 72, 219, 267 
Sidis, Boris 114 
sin 193, 198 
sleep 239 

and auto-erotism 174 
somnambulism 97 
spot-light 123 
stimulability 223 
sublimations 250, 312, 357 
substitution neurosis 246 
suggestibility 200, 374 
suggestion 234 
suicide 60 
suppression 213 seq 

and immobility 225 
symbdi formation 110 
symbolism 98, 156, 342 
sympathy 234 

tact 235 
tenderness 371 
terror 223 

thoughts, origin of 156 
threshold 93 

toxic exhaustive psychosis 99 
toxins, sexual 67 
transference 28, 121, 156 
transmutation 83 
Treadway, Walter L. 51 
tremors, hysterical 249 
trend, 146 
"Trieb" 16 

Trotter, Wilfred 227, 236, 248, 
323, 326, 332 

unconscious 91, 213 
and auto-erotism 177 
sex 9 
undirected thinking 105 
urination reflex 217 
unwitting 213 

verbalization 10, 29, 54 

visceral language of emotions 177 



INDEX 



383 



waking stimuli 115 

war neuroses XI, 240, 279 

wish 219, 260 



wishes, consciousness of 13 
womb, return to 155 
Wundt 209 



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